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The air bites sharp as jagged peaks claw at a storm-choked sky. A lone climber battles upward, fingers raw against ice-smeared rock, boots scraping for purchase on crumbling ledges. Below, shadows swallow the valley; above, the summit taunts—close enough to taste, guarded by howling winds and a gauntlet of treachery. Every choice is survival: a frayed rope straining over a bottomless crevasse, hidden crevices veiled under fresh powder, stone fists of hail battering exposed skin. Scan the terrain—left, a sheer drop masked by fog; right, unstable shale waiting to slide. Listen for the low groan of avalanche gathering strength. Hammer the ice axe deep, test each foothold’s loyalty, leap the gap before the ledge fractures. Protect her pulse—steady, relentless—as falling debris screams past. Shield her grip when frost numbs muscle, reroute paths when rockfall blocks ascent. The mountain demands sacrifice. Deny it. Outwit the precipice. Let courage anchor her when the world tilts vertical. One misstep, and the abyss wins. Keep her alive. Keep her climbing. The sky’s wrath is no match for resolve forged in ice and blood.
