#vssfantasy prompt: ascetic
The traveler staggered up the last few steps of the winding staircase. He fell to his knees, breathing heavily in the cold, thin air. The wind chilled him to the bone, despite his thick parka and the woolen scarf wrapped around his neck.
I'm here. I'm finally here.
He waited until his head stopped spinning. Aside from the wind, there was no sound at all. No twitter of birds or buzz of bees or drip of water. Just the howl of the air and its icy teeth. Of course, only a madman would climb this high to get away from the world. A madman...or a genius, depending on one's point of view.
Grey clouds encircled the peak of this mountain. Dark and impenetrable, a wall that sealed away this little piece of existence. His ears strained to hear any rumble of thunder and found none. Perhaps the lightning couldn't reach this high. Perhaps he had already gone mad. Perhaps his body lay upon the lower paths and it was his soul that arrived here. Could you die and not be aware of it? Wasn't that why some ghosts roamed the living, that they were ignorant that their hearts no longer beat?
He reached up to feel his pulse. It fluttered like a newborn chick under his fingertips. Unsteady, but he was definitely still alive. His sanity, now that was a different story altogether, for he looked up and saw him.
The Learned One. The man sat serenely upon a stone platform that faced west. The winds did not stir his robes, his long hair settled on his shoulders and down his back. The Traveler rubbed his eyes, rubbed them again, but the apparition remained. What manner of being could sit here so and withstand the elements with no heavy coat, no visible supplies, no visible way of survival?
No matter. Here was his goal. The Traveler fought his way onto his feet and dragged himself, step by painful step. He circled the dais to look upon the Learned One's face. It was both old and young at the same time, untouched by wrinkles yet possessed such calm serenity that only came with long years. It was like beholding a statue of living flesh, a virtue made manifest.
The Traveler swayed like a drunken sailor, but managed to bow deeply in reverence in front of the Learned One. Long days of his solitary journey had reduced his voice to a whisper, or perhaps he only heard them in his mind.
"I've climbed mountains, braved storms, fought demons. Now I kneel at your feet, please teach me your wisdom." He finally allowed himself to fall to his knees again, prostrated himself in utter exhaustion. Would he be able find the strength to rise again? He did not know.
Moments passed. Was it only a few minutes, an hour, or more? He lost track of time, as the wind swirled around him. Then he heard the Learned One finally stir from his perch and he somehow managed to raise his head.
The ascetic opened his eyes.They were dark, fathomless and full of stars. They regarded the Traveler without joy or pity or sorrow. The Traveler wondered at that gaze that measured and judged him at the same time.Was his journey in vain? Had he struggled so valiantly towards this goal, only to fail here, at the end? Those pools of black expanded, and it seemed to encompass the world, the universe. The Traveler could not move, but he heard the whispered words clearly.
"You have indeed journeyed far, but have you learned much in the process? Or are you the same now as before? For if you have not learned anything, then you must try again."
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