In your new home, so many things are lies. Well-disguised lies, sure, like the false planet. Even those in power do not hesitate to spread their own lies. The mountains, on the other hand, are unmistakably real. They could stand for a thousand years—or what one would consider to be a thousand years in this hell—and could be barely changed. Just a couple chips off the rock which makes them up here and there.
How surprising, then, is the fact that they were created in an instant.
But, enough of that. Let us discuss other things.
It has been years since the Database vanished. A pity. With it gone, there is no way for those imprisoned—and those free—to know about this luxurious jail. Thus, it has fallen to individual people to share their own knowledge—and, as I have said, that leaves the door open to the lies which the trapped so easily spread.
How do you know you can trust me? You do not. But, let us pretend that you do. Allow me to share what little I know about the peaks. Or, as I call them, the Toxic Mountain.
Yes, mountain—singular.
For, like everything else here, first appearances can be incredibly deceptive.
The first thing you might notice upon stepping into this place is the light. For although there is a sky, the sun is nowhere to be found. And yet there is light everywhere. The source of the light is not of this place, and yet it is of this place. But the light has another interesting quality, for it is what defines this place.
Sound ridiculous? Of course. One would be right to think that that was another of the lies. But go to the mountain, and you will find that it is true. The farther one travels, the more the light lessens in its intensity, and the more the level blends together. Trees merge with the ground, and become just bumps on a flat surface. Whites and grays and browns blend together.
And there is another lie. For the trees, though they stand today and will almost certainly stand forever, dead. They have been dead for eons. The same is true of the plants which are buried underneath the snow which covers the mountain. All look the same as if they were alive, but are missing any trace of green. For the trees, that means no leaves.
But enough of that. You might be wondering why I call this place the Toxic Mountain. First, because the entire level is centered on one mountain. Those in the Frontrooms—or what were the Frontrooms—might call it Kholat Syakhl. Do not be worried if you don’t know what that means. Even I do not, for those who know what it means have almost all fallen victim to the same struggles that plague us all. Those who enter this place wind up on its summit. The light is at its brightest atop it.
Now, for the other part of its name. How is this place “toxic”? The answer lies in the particles which float in the sky here. Suspended forever, these white flecks emit a poison. Every person who enters is inevitably affected by it. It will kill you if you stay for longer than about an hour, despite the doses being as small as they are.
And there is something… else here.
It comes every now and then. A sense of panic. Nobody knows where it comes from. All that we know is that it can send even the strongest-minded person into a temporary insanity. Is it an entity, or a force of nature?
What is anything now?
What is that? Do you wish to know more?
There is little more to tell you.
Oh, yes. What of what I hinted at? How this place come into existence in a mere instant? That, I cannot tell you. Or perhaps I do not wish to tell you. That is up to you to decide.
All I can tell you is that the Mountain’s image holds the key.
And that the entire thing began when four words were spoken.
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Author: RiverMan18
Image from
Google Maps.
A Multipart Story |
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