Knox struggled for a better grapple, seeking higher, seeking a better purchase but each reach for the glow tore at his muscles with heats of pain. His limbs buckled at the sheer pressure. “I can’t do it! I can’t, please!” Knox cried at the presence, his eyeballs icy and blind from crystallizing tears. He outstretched a hand like a beggar, fingers trembling for a hold on the edge of the world, of his life. He was so near just one more push and he’d be able to get up onto the ridge.
There was a moan somewhere deep in the core of the mountain. Knox felt tiny pieces of rock slip through his fingers as the moan became a bellow and it, an earthquake within Knox’s chest pressed tightly against the rock. Then the ridge shook violently and Knox heard and felt a loud crumble beneath him that nearly threw him off the ridge.
He took a dare and glanced down only to see that he was hanging in the air, one foot loose, the other still finding something solid to step on. The mountain was gone and in its place there was a void showing the long way straight to the barren valley. Knox felt dizzy. He would slip, he would let go and he would fall. He would die, smash into bits. Would they ever find him? A leg there, a finger here? He couldn’t hold longer. There was pain extending from his fingertips to his wrists, traveling up the length of his arm, his joints cracking under the pressure of his body hanging loose, bashed by sudden flurries of wind. His bones were heavy. “Help!” he squealed at whoever listened. The glow had left him too he saw. In his fear Knox cried.
He scratched the rock desperately trying to hold on, prolonging what was inevitable. But he was already slipping, his skin under the glove flaying from the harsh friction of slip and hold, unable to grip. Knox could feel his nails breaking under the pressure. His fingers would snap soon.
Something blinded him in a sudden and harsh burst of light that made Knox shut his eyes tight. Through the slits of his eyes he saw that the light was green, a revolting shade that burned through his eyelids and laser-pointed itself onto his irises. As Knox wailed in pain he felt his fingers unlock their grip from the rock and he fell, inflamed body sighing. There had been pain, now there was none. It was a silent moment, too fast, too short to be felt, realized or prevented. His body experienced release, his muscles eased as he was thrown back with a gentle push which set his body into a flight that altered the dynamic unhook from the rock into a slow progress undoubtedly and only down, but which gave him in a paralytic mix of fear and tears, hope.
Though he was falling to his demise atop this mountain, Knox hoped that that would finally mean his freedom. As he stared into the white obscurity floating around and above him, the green glow dispersing within that purity, he truly believed this was meant to be his punishment and closure combined.
He was about to change, very soon. But it suddenly frightened him very much, the impact with the cold ground, the chance of remaining conscious, or worst alive. He thought that as he screamed aloud, he thought of the old man and how he warned him that Gods are funny. The fall was no longer a peaceful acceptance.
To be continued….