The Climb

Dawn presses through the forest canopy in narrow gold shafts, touching the rough walls and timber floor of the home you are meant to leave. Dust hangs motionless in the pale light.

You wake alone beneath a wool blanket. Beyond the shuttered window, the forest town rests between dark trees, its roofs damp with night and its lanes empty.

The room offers only the plain necessities of departure: a narrow bed, a cold hearth, a wooden table, and the quiet belongings gathered for a life already ending.

Your radiant silhouette casts a soft, living glow across the floorboards, brighter than the dawn yet contained within the shape of mortal flesh.

Outside, the road bends away beneath the trees. Somewhere beyond it lies the calling that drew you here, while every moment spent inside delays the purpose burning within you.

Nothing else moves. No voice claims the morning. The house, the town, and the waiting road hold still, leaving the next step entirely yours.

Aleph leaves the blanket and takes nothing else. His radiant silhouette crosses the room, bare feet meeting the cold timber floor as he heads for the door.

The warped threshold catches his foot. His balance fails, and his shoulder strikes the door instead of carrying him cleanly through.

The door bursts outward with a dry crack. Aleph catches himself against the frame, while the old latch tears free and leaves the entrance unable to close.

Morning air spills over him. Beyond the open doorway, the main road bends beneath the trees, but a narrow footpath also appears beside the house, marked by pale stones leading uphill.

Aleph stands outside at last, wearing only what he wore in bed. The house remains open behind him, and the newly revealed path offers a quieter route away from town.

The forest receives his light without answering. Two ways now wait beneath the waking canopy: the road through town, or the stone-marked climb.