Sightless had transmigrated many times before. Each time, a new illusion, a new body—always the same: pale, weak, twenty-one, with dull eyes that saw little strength.
Lyne was different. Born of primordial celestial blood, she kept her true form and needed only to call upon her skill to cross worlds.
She approached him quietly. "What is it you must do in the Illusionary World?"
Sightless exhaled softly. "Do you know what my work is?"
"I think so," she said thoughtfully. "The Illusionary World… it's different for everyone, isn't it? You can climb mountains, or hide from them."
He nodded, gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "I'm a poet. The path I walk is a harsh one. I must witness the peak of the Forgotten Mount—and record it."
"I will climb that mountain with you," Lyne replied.
Together, they approached the mountain's piedmont.
Snow fell thick and slow, muffling the world. No matter how far they stepped, the mountain's towering face never drew closer. Its peak vanished into the pale, empty sky.
Sightless took his first step onto the mountain—an ordinary mountain this was not. It breathed cold secrets.
As they circled the base, a dark figure appeared through the swirling blizzard.
Lyne called out, "Hello! Do you know how to climb this mountain?"
The figure held a candle, its flame flickering blue in the frozen air. He seemed human, yet hollow.
"You who step foot on the mount," he whispered, voice like cracking ice, "shall be forgotten."
Then the candle went out. The figure dissolved into the cold silence, swallowed by the endless snow.