The first step onto the mountain felt like stepping into another world. The air was thin, biting at their lungs, and the cold seeped into their bones as if the mountain itself was trying to drain the life from them. The sky above was a dull, endless gray, offering no warmth, no comfort—just an eerie stillness that made the whole place feel like a tomb.
Manav adjusted the strap of his bag, his breath coming out in ragged puffs of mist. The path was narrow, barely more than a jagged line of rock cutting up the mountainside. It was uneven and treacherous, covered in frost that made each step a gamble between progress and a deadly fall.
Priya followed close behind, her footsteps careful but firm. She had always been the more cautious one. Manav had spent his life charging forward, manipulating, fighting, taking what he wanted. Priya, though just as determined, had always been the one to remind him of the cost.
Neither of them spoke as they climbed. The wind howled around them, shrieking like a thousand unseen voices. It felt alive—angry. As if the mountain itself resented their presence.
After an hour, the incline grew steeper. The narrow path forced them to move slowly, pressing their hands against the icy rock for balance. At times, loose stones gave way beneath their feet, tumbling into the abyss below.
Manav glanced over his shoulder. The ground they had left behind was already barely visible through the mist. There was no turning back now.
The temperature dropped the higher they climbed. Manav's fingers had gone numb despite his gloves, and his joints ached with every movement.
Priya stopped to catch her breath, leaning against a boulder. "I can't feel my hands," she muttered, rubbing them together.
Manav reached into his bag and pulled out a flask, handing it to her. "Drink. It'll help."
She took a hesitant sip, wincing at the burn of the liquor before nodding in gratitude.
As they resumed their ascent, something shifted in the air.
It wasn't just the cold anymore. It was something else.
A presence.
Manav felt it before he saw it—the unsettling sensation of being watched. He turned his head slowly, scanning the mist. The thick fog clung to the mountainside, swirling like living tendrils, concealing whatever lay beyond.
Then he saw it.
A shadow.
At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, just shifting fog playing with his mind. But the shape didn't move with the wind—it moved with purpose. It was there, standing just beyond the edge of the path, barely visible.
Watching.
Manav's grip tightened on his knife. "Priya," he said quietly.
She followed his gaze, eyes narrowing. She saw it too.
Then, it was gone.
The mist swallowed the figure as if it had never been there.
A tense silence stretched between them.
"Keep moving," Priya murmured, her voice low. "Whatever it was… we don't want to wait for it."
Manav nodded. He didn't believe in ghosts. He believed in things he could see, fight, manipulate. But this mountain—this cursed place—felt like something different.
The path twisted sharply around a jagged outcrop, forcing them to hug the rock wall for support. The wind had become relentless, pushing against them with violent gusts that threatened to throw them off balance.
Then, the growl came.
Low. Guttural.
Manav barely had time to react before something lunged from the mist.
A beast, larger than any wolf, its body covered in thick, matted fur streaked with frost. Its eyes burned red, and its massive claws scraped against the ice as it charged.
Manav moved on instinct. He shoved Priya aside just as the creature swiped at them, narrowly missing. The force of the attack sent Manav skidding backward, barely managing to keep his footing.
Priya drew a dagger, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "What the hell is that?!"
Manav didn't have an answer. The creature was unlike anything he had ever seen. It wasn't just an animal—it felt wrong, unnatural, as if it didn't belong to this world.
The beast circled them, snarling, steam rising from its mouth in the freezing air. Then, it lunged again.
Manav ducked, slashing with his knife, but the blade barely cut through its thick hide. The creature's claws raked against his coat, tearing through fabric and flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
Priya struck from the side, aiming for its throat. The beast twisted at the last second, the dagger slicing its shoulder instead. It howled, staggering back.
Then, without warning, it turned and disappeared into the mist.
Silence.
Manav exhaled heavily, pressing a hand to his bleeding arm. "It'll be back," he muttered.
Priya wiped her blade on her sleeve, her hands still trembling. "We need to move faster."
They pressed on, pushing through exhaustion and pain. The path only grew more treacherous, the ice thicker, the climb steeper.
And the feeling of being watched never left them.
At times, they caught glimpses of things in the mist. Shadows moving just beyond sight. Unnatural shapes that disappeared when they looked directly at them.
The cold deepened. The wind whispered things in voices they almost understood.
Night was falling.
"We need shelter," Priya said. "We can't keep climbing in the dark."
Manav scanned the mountainside. Ahead, a small overhang of rock jutted out, forming a shallow cave. It would have to do.
They stumbled inside, grateful for even the smallest relief from the wind.
Manav sat against the wall, pulling off his glove to check his wounded arm. The cut was deep, but not fatal.
Priya sat beside him, staring out at the mist.
"…I don't think we're meant to reach the top," she whispered.
Manav glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"This place… it's not just a mountain. It feels alive."
He couldn't argue. The things they had seen, the way time felt strange here—something was wrong about this place.
"We keep going," Manav said firmly. "No matter what."
Priya didn't answer.
Outside, in the darkness, the growl returned.
Low. Hungry.
And close.
The beast had come back.
And this time, it wasn't alone.