the climb had turned cruel.
the air thinned until every breath felt like inhaling through glass dust. the snow no longer fell it floated, suspended, twisting unnaturally in eddies that obeyed no wind. lewis and hendrick had reached the glacial ridge that marked towlin's upper basin an expanse of pale blue ice that reflected the clouds above like cracked mirrors.
daniel dorbin drifted a few meters behind them, a silent black shape against the white world. he didn't seem affected by the cold; frost gathered on his fur only to melt instantly, like it was afraid to cling.
hendrick stumbled toward the frozen lake at the center of the basin, panting hard. his lips were cracked from dehydration, and his voice came out raw. "we… we need water, lewis. if we don't drink now, we're done."
lewis nodded weakly. the altimeter on his wrist blinked 9,927 m almost the top. his brain pulsed in uneven waves; the symptoms of high-altitude hypoxia dizziness, visual snow, time distortion crept in. each sound seemed stretched, distorted.
they knelt at the edge of the lake, where the ice had thinned into a trembling layer of meltwater. hendrick dipped his gloved hand, breaking the film. the sound crack echoed like a gunshot in the stillness.
daniel's third eye opened slowly. "you might want to reconsider," he said softly, voice carrying that impossible calm.
hendrick ignored him. "it's just water."
"no," daniel murmured, "it's memory."
the surface stilled. then movement. something vast turned beneath the ice.
hendrick froze.
for a fraction of a second, he saw it: an immense shadow sliding under the frozen crust serpentine, fluid, and impossibly large. his mind rejected the scale at first. his pulse spiked.
"no," he whispered. "it can't be"
the lake exploded.
a column of water and shattered ice shot upward like a geyser, and from it rose a body that should not have fit beneath that lake. scales like black iron. eyes that burned faintly from deep within not fiery, but bioluminescent, like the slow glow of abyssal creatures.
the leviathan.
hendrick's scream was half-choked by the air's thinness. his body trembled, muscles locking as the creature's head the size of a house loomed above them. the smell hit next: wet stone, iron, and rot.
daniel remained suspended a few meters above the snow, expression unreadable. with a thought, he manifested a small paper bag filled with popcorn, the kernels glowing faintly gold. he tossed one into his mouth, chewing lazily as the monster's roar tore across the basin.
"ah," he said softly, "fear of deep water. very human."
the leviathan struck not down, but sideways, sweeping the surface in a wave that shattered through ice and snow. lewis dove left, hendrick rolled right. they barely escaped the blow, though the shockwave sent them sprawling.
"hendrick!" lewis shouted.
"i'm fine" hendrick coughed, voice trembling "what the hell is that?"
"your mind," daniel said between bites. "specifically, the part that never stopped believing something ancient still watches from below."
hendrick's breath came sharp, erratic. panic feeds manifestation and the creature grew larger. the air vibrated with a subsonic hum as if the entire mountain resonated with the beast's pulse.
"we can't fight that!" hendrick yelled.
"you can," daniel corrected calmly. "towlin doesn't give you what kills you. it gives you what you must face."
lewis grabbed a fractured trekking pole metal twisted from impact. he looked at daniel. "can't you do something?"
"no," daniel said simply, "the hill hasn't given permission."
the leviathan surged forward, its jaw opening to reveal rows of translucent teeth, each one shimmering like glacier glass. hendrick swung his ice axe futile, but instinctual. it struck the creature's snout, sending up sparks as metal met scale.
the recoil threw him back. lewis lunged, driving the trekking pole into a joint between scales it sank halfway before snapping. dark ichor hissed onto the snow, steaming where it touched.
"it bleeds!" lewis shouted.
"so do you," daniel murmured.
the monster turned its gaze toward lewis now, eyes narrowing. the temperature dropped instantly; breath crystallized midair. the creature inhaled, and the entire lake seemed to shift with it an intake of pressure that pulled snow and wind toward its maw.
hendrick staggered to his feet, fumbling for his climbing knife. "we have to hit the throat!"
"no time!" lewis yelled.
the leviathan lunged.
instinct drove them not strategy, not courage just survival. lewis grabbed a flare from his jacket, ignited it, and threw it straight into the creature's mouth. a streak of orange vanished into black. the explosion inside the throat sent steam and blood spraying outward, forcing the beast to rear back in pain.
it wasn't enough.
a single tail strike swept them both off their feet. hendrick's ribs cracked audibly as he hit the ice. lewis crawled toward him, but his limbs felt disconnected the lack of oxygen mixing with shock.
the leviathan leaned down again, mouth opening massive enough to swallow them whole. the sound it made wasn't a roar but a vibration, something that hit the chest and mind simultaneously.
and then the hill allowed it.
daniel sighed softly. the popcorn vanished. his third eye opened fully and the world bent.
for a moment, there was no up or down, no air, no distance. snowflakes froze midair, sound inverted into silence, and the leviathan stopped moving not by choice, but because motion itself had been suspended.
daniel floated between the two humans and the beast, his fur rippling though no wind touched him. his voice, when it came, was quiet but carried the weight of an ancient axis turning.
"this," he said, "is 0.000001 percent."
he lifted a single paw.
space folded.
it wasn't an explosion or beam just a shift, like reality corrected itself. one moment the leviathan existed; the next, it didn't. not destroyed simply unwritten. no splash, no scream. the gap it occupied in the world closed like a healed wound.
hendrick blinked in disbelief, chest heaving. "what… what did you do?"
daniel looked at him, the three eyes glowing faintly in asynchronous pulses. "nothing," he said. "i just reminded the universe that your fear was never real."
the snow resumed falling. the cold returned. air rushed back into lungs.
lewis sat up, shivering. "if that was nothing, then what's something?"
daniel's expression softened slightly almost pity, almost boredom. "something," he said, "is when i stop pretending to be merciful."
the lake behind them was calm again perfectly still, reflecting the faint light of the aurora bleeding through the clouds above.
hendrick stared at it, trembling. "i… i thought it was going to kill us."
"it nearly did," daniel replied. "towlin tests belief, not strength. next time, try believing in something other than your fear."
then, as though nothing had happened, he manifested a new handful of popcorn. "shall we continue?" he asked, smiling faintly.
the mountain groaned beneath them a deep, tectonic rumble like the sound of a planet turning in its sleep. lewis realized with slow dread that towlin was listening and learning.
"we keep going," he whispered, standing shakily.
daniel nodded, his eyes gleaming like distant stars.
"good," he said. "because the hill's just getting curious."