Tor Redrock wasn’t the mountain’s highest peak or its most beautiful crag, though it soared above the barren valley below and shone crimson in the sun’s fading light. Still, something had drawn her to it.
Climbing the broken face, struggling over scattered stones and along forgotten paths, she felt alone. She was alone. That steep spire of red granite was no company, no comfort. But it drew her on towards the dwindling summit like a moth to an ember.
At the very tip of its tapering point the world of solid safety was swallowed by an expanding void of weightless air. She was afraid, trembling with every step. If she touched the needle’s point, she would be borne away by even the gentlest breeze.
But she wasn’t alone. Another had been pulled there, two flies snared on a spider’s thread. He was crouching just below the summit, looking down into the deep scar below. Did he understand? She reached out to touch his arm and knew that he did.
Tor Redrock held no secrets from them. They had known it was a lonely place, coming together by different paths.
He would never move, that forgotten adventurer. For an eternity, he would sit and watch the valley, understanding how alone he was without ever knowing.
She left him there and let careful footsteps lead her down the mountain. She had reached the summit and learnt the mountain’s secret. Something had drawn her there and now she knew what. She had been a moth drawn to a dying ember, but the light had burnt out. New, brighter fires blazed below.