Chapter 591

Kanat, thirty-one, from a small village clinging to the skirts of the Tian Shan Mountains in Kyrgyzstan, pulled his oxygen mask tighter. The biting wind clawed at any exposed skin, trying to steal the warmth of his life.

Ahead, Pemba Sherpa planted another flag in the snow, marking their agonizingly slow progress up the last stretch of Everest's summit.

He'd dreamed of this moment since he was a boy, listening to his grandfather's tales of legendary climbers and impossible feats.

But the reality was far different from the romantic visions in his head. It was a brutal test of endurance, a grinding battle against the mountain's indifference.

Kanat's boots crunched on the icy surface, each step a victory hard-won. He focused on Pemba's rhythmic breathing ahead, trying to block out the growing nausea and throbbing pain in his temples. The sun, a malevolent eye in the thin atmosphere, reflected blindingly off the endless white.

They reached the summit. Exhaustion washed over Kanat as he automatically knelt to touch the peak and say a silent prayer of thanks. Pemba offered a weary smile, his face weathered and lined from countless ascents.

"Welcome to the top of the world, Kanat," Pemba croaked, his voice muffled by the mask.

Kanat managed a weak grin and pointed his GoPro forward, hoping to catch even a bit of this monumental achievement. The world opened up before him, a vista of jagged peaks and swirling clouds. He wanted to shout with triumph but the thin air strangled the sound in his throat.

Something was wrong.

Beyond Pemba's waving flags, something starkly out of place drew Kanat's attention. He squinted, trying to clear his vision, fighting the swirling snow and his mind struggling to fill what he was seeing, and thinking was just fatigue.

It was a door.

Not just any door, but a massive, ornate structure seemingly built of obsidian. It stood upright, defiant against the howling wind and the desolate landscape. Intricate carvings covered its surface, designs that made no sense, symbols that scraped at something deep and primal in Kanat's mind.

"Pemba," Kanat gasped, pointing. "What... what is that?"

Pemba followed his finger, his eyes widening behind his goggles. He took a step toward it, then another, his usual calm composure gone, replaced by something akin to bewilderment and fear.

"I… I have never seen anything like this." He responded, his voice shaking with a mixture of amazement and uncertainty.

They approached the door cautiously, as if expecting it to suddenly lurch open and devour them. The wind seemed to quiet as they drew nearer, creating a pocket of strange stillness around the unnatural structure. The air became thick with an ozone scent.

The obsidian surface was cold to the touch, almost painfully so. Kanat traced one of the carvings, feeling a faint vibration beneath his gloved fingertips. The symbols seemed to writhe and shift before his eyes. He jumped, startled, pulling his hand away.

"Did you feel that?" Kanat questioned, his heart hammering in his chest.

Pemba swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the door. He touched it briefly, then recoiled. "Yes. Like… something is alive inside it."

A low hum started, emanating from the door itself. It grew louder, vibrating through the ice and into their bones. The carvings on the surface began to glow with a faint, pulsing light.

Panic clawed at Kanat's throat. This was wrong. Terribly wrong. "We need to go," he blurted out. "Now."

Pemba nodded slowly, his face grim. "Agreed. Something… something is not right here."

But as they turned to retreat, the door swung inward, silently.

A wave of frigid air washed over them, so cold it burned their lungs. Inside was not snow or ice or rock but a swirling vortex of black, shot through with flashes of green and purple light. It pulsed with unnatural energy, a living void that promised oblivion.

They both stumbled back, paralyzed by terror. The humming intensified, building to a deafening roar. The very mountain seemed to tremble.

"Run!" Kanat screamed.

They turned and bolted, desperate to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the door. The wind slammed into them, hindering their progress. Kanat glanced back, fear constricting his chest.

The vortex was expanding, spilling out of the doorway like ink in water. It was reaching for them, tendrils of darkness snaking across the snow.

Pemba slipped on the ice, falling hard. Kanat hesitated for a split second, torn between survival and loyalty.

"Kanat, go! Save yourself!" Pemba shouted, struggling to rise.

Kanat made his choice. He grabbed Pemba's outstretched hand and hauled him to his feet. Together, they stumbled onward, their lungs burning, their legs screaming in protest.

The darkness was gaining.

A tendril of black snaked around Pemba's ankle. He cried out, a sound swallowed by the wind. He fought against it but the darkness tightened its grip, pulling him inexorably toward the open door.

"Kanat! Help me!" Pemba screamed, his voice laced with pure terror.

Kanat pulled with all his strength, but it was no use. Pemba was being dragged closer, inch by agonizing inch. Kanat was pulled with him, his own feet slipping on the icy ground.

"I... I can't..." Kanat gasped, his grip failing.

With a final, desperate scream, Pemba was pulled through the doorway and disappeared into the vortex. The door slammed shut, the humming ceased, and the carvings dimmed, leaving Kanat alone on the summit.

The mountain fell silent.

Kanat stared at the door, his mind numb with horror. Pemba was gone. Consumed by whatever unholy thing resided beyond that portal. He was alone, stranded at the top of the world, with nothing but a monstrous door for company.

He should move, get off the summit, find his team but he couldn't move.

Days, maybe weeks. Time lost all meaning in the icy desolation. Kanat survived only on instinct, consuming the meager supplies he had, sheltering in a crevasse to escape the worst of the wind.

He dared not approach the door again, but he couldn't bring himself to leave it completely behind. It was a morbid curiosity, a haunting presence that had claimed his friend.

One night, he saw it open.

Not violently or suddenly, but slowly, deliberately. The same vortex of black and green filled the opening, but this time it wasn't aggressive. It pulsed softly, almost invitingly.

Kanat found himself drawn to it, a moth to a deadly flame. He didn't resist. He stepped toward the open door.

A figure emerged from the vortex. It was Pemba.

But it wasn't Pemba.

The being that stood before him wore Pemba's face, but its eyes glowed with the same unnatural light as the vortex. It smiled, a chilling, inhuman expression that twisted Pemba's familiar features into a grotesque parody.

"Kanat," it said, using Pemba's voice but imbuing it with a hollow, alien resonance. "Come. Join me."

Kanat wanted to scream, to run but he was paralyzed. The being extended a hand, a hand that looked like Pemba's but felt wrong somehow, as if something inside had broken it and shifted it somehow.

"What... what happened to you?" Kanat choked out.

The being tilted its head, its eyes gleaming. "I have been shown a different view of reality; one that you must also accept and respect."

"The door," Kanat asked with a rasp. "What lies beyond?"

The being chuckled, a dry, rasping sound that held no warmth. "A universe of possibilities. Come through the door. There will be a great responsibility upon you and our kind."

The reality he has lived, and this supposed 'universe of possibilities', was already tearing him apart. He stepped forward, placing his hand in the being's grasp.

As his fingers intertwined with the cold, alien flesh of what used to be his close climbing acquaintance, Pemba, he felt a sharp pain that made his vision go blurry and distorted, with every color mixing and meshing.

He welcomed the coming dark, now consumed by madness and existential suffering that came along with seeing through that obsidian door.

"The offer stands, now and ever, climb into our grasp."

As they went through, the door shut instantly behind them. This would be the last glimpse anyone would ever get of Kanat, an unfortunate soul lost on that fateful journey to the peak of Everest.

No one would know of his ordeal and sad transformation, only for there to remain an eerie silence looming on the top of the peak, and that door forever on guard, until the next climber would discover it to repeat history once again.

The end of Kanat, an eerie and solitary close, forever claimed by the mysteries beyond the obsidian door on Everest.