Skybreaker

The clouds were giant stretches of shadow across the blue and grey sky. Soon, the dry, vast expanse of the plains would be soaked and flooded, forming a mosaic of rivers and streams. Since a child, Vanitur had always been afraid of the sky. Its roars rocked him wherever he was, and its blade was the fastest ever seen. Yet this time was different.

The thunderous legions marched onward through the sky, as they have countless times. They would come and blot out the sun, conquering the land swiftly. They would rend it with rain and gale, ravaging all those who failed to hide within the earth. They would march forward until they reached the mountain, which challenged the sky ceaselessly. The mountain was so tall that it made scraping the edge of the heavens a trivial matter. Systematically, each of the soldiers of lightning would charge the mountain, only to be deflected and defeated. When all the armies had faltered, the sky would clear and the sun would shine once more.

Van could never say what scared him more, the mountain or the storms. But one thing was certain; he had never climbed the mountain. He wasn't the only one however. Many people have failed to accept the daunting challenge of climbing the sheer face of that giant warrior. Yet those who had climbed seemed different; they were social, talkative, and happy. Often, these self-proclaimed skybreakers would invite others to climb the mountain, but most would not listen. Whenever asked, they all would say the same thing: the view is worth the trial. But Van never understood what they meant.

The old, wise elder of Van’s village often spoke with Van, trying to convince him to look on the mountain as he had, and so many others had. Yet Van was unsure. He didn't see how it was possible to go up the mountain. He had tried several times, and was defeated just as the clouds were.

He didn't know why he approached the mountain again. Maybe it was his curiosity, or perhaps the elder finally convinced him. And yet he approached it when the storms were preparing their siege. Soon the mountain would be its most deadly, and yet he continued to approach the base.

When he arrived at the giant’s foot, he looked up, only to see its head enshrouded in shadows. Soon the arrows would fall, and the spears of lightning would strike the sides, causing the ground to break. Any other in his village would have turned back to wait for another day, one more clear. No one had ever climbed the mountain during the storms. And yet Vanitur prepared to climb. He wanted to finally see the sky.

By the time Van had begun to grip the walls of the mountain, slick water was running down the sides. He pushed onward, hand over hand and foot over foot as he had countless times before. His muscles tired and his grip grew weak. His eyes stung from the rain’s endless assault. Yet he pushed forward.

After a while he saw a small nook, one where on his most successful attempt he had stopped to rest before returning back to the ground. Upon reaching it, the nook was shallow and concave, like a shell, providing protection from the endless gale. In his shell he could see as far as the village, deserted of life. All the villagers were inside their underground havens, waiting out the armies of the sky. He wondered if they noticed his absence, if they wondered where he had gone.

Continuing the climb was hard, especially since Van was now in uncharted territory. He had never made it past the shell nook, and knew nothing of what lay ahead. Looking up, he saw that he would soon reach the clouds themselves, as they swirled and fought with the giant. Occasionally one of the warriors would throw down their lightning, breaking the mountain but only making it more jagged and fierce. In a way, this helped Van, as the strikes created fresh handholds for him to climb on.

He did not realize he had entered into the storm clouds until he felt the wind push him up. It was so sudden that he barely held onto the giant’s burly armor. The gusts would batter him back and forth, as if the soldiers lived solely to stop Van from reaching the top. Though the rain was no longer there, he couldn't see forward due to the shroud of darkness surrounding his entire person. Without eyes, he trusted his hands and continued, hand over hand, foot over foot.

The sun was blinding, but beautiful. It warmed his freezing, wet body as he climbed further, through the clouds and toward the peak. He could feel the glory of the mountain, welcoming him home, as if he was a child who has been away for a long time. Eager, he hastened his climb, hoping to finally see what so many others of his village had seen. Hoping to finally know what they meant by the “view”.

The top of the mountain was flat, calm, serene, and warm. It felt as if it was its own world. Yet the exhausted Van didn't understand why it was so glorious and cherished. It wasn't until he turned to see the sun that he understood.

The deep, red sky filled the vast expanse around him, and the golden sun and its silver queen stood side by side. The clouds had transformed from monstrous beings to kind, even welcoming friends. Their broken orange faces greeted him as they began to leave, reopening the view of the ground below. He could see the plains, full of life and liveliness as animals came out of their safe havens to congratulate each other on survival. Far in the distance, a shimmering ocean stretched out its broad arms, welcoming all to come.

Van now understood why the mountain was cherished, even holy, to the people of his village. The giant was no enemy, and the clouds no soldiers of darkness. They were old friends, coming to greet each other, to share countless stories of the beauty of the world Van could finally see. He dropped to his knees, crying tears of joy as he finally understood the beauty of the world. But even more so, he was finally a Skybreaker.