Sentinel's Ascent
The western peninsula from which I narrowly escaped
A seafarer's ghost once recounted to me a tale of a mystic view from the sea's inlet-a hallowed rise of hills that lead to mountains, like a natural wall of defense from the crashing waves that forever tormented the rocky shores. There, the fog never lifted, save for two blessed hours when the specters were freed-one for the sunrise, and one for the sunset, where their enslaving fog left for the heavens once again leaving only some gentle mist, fluttering about and settling like spirit-children, and it would coat the mountain's ascenders in a fragile veil of water.
The stairs they took, carved into the great seaside valley, must be ascended from the very start of the hills and be taken all across the valley to where the elevated cliffs become mountains. At the top of the first mountain is the Watcher's roost, and if one were to float by on the sea, perhaps you could see them ascending and descending according to their shifts, in cloaks the color of ash, only visible by their iron lantern staffs in those early dark hours, their faces always hidden by great hoods. A dwindling line of windswept trees keeps them in shadow, but as summer had faded into autumn, they were laid bare, and the Watchers could be seen all along the path. The seafarer, steering the ship, questioned his crew mate about them, and the nature of their ascent, as it was his first time passing the valley. The waves had lessened on that early morning, and they were slowly sailing past the highest mountain first, and he saw a flame in the fog and the tower which held it, twisted in an odd way, but the breeze picked up and the fog swallowed it once more even as he turned around for a second look.
“They keep the fog here.” His crew mate responded, half-awake and staring absentmindedly at the line of Watchers as he smoked a pipe. “We've always called them Watchers. 'Cause they watch the fog.” The seafarer nodded and sighed, knowing he would not find many answers with the drowsy crew.
“It does feel a bit different here.” He said, for he too had been battling the urge to lay down right there and close his eyes. “But it's lifting now. What does that mean?”
“They're changing shifts,” his crew mate responded, before promptly leaving for the bunks. The wind began to whistle, and just then a swath of gulls swooped past the seafarer at his post, screeching all the while, and he gasped as he fell back and watched their strange flight. The waves stretched and roared with the wind. A chill, as hard and as cold as ice pierced his eyes and heart, and the wind whirled so that the bell that was attached to a mast began to ring all on its own. The fog bore down again, and as the seafarer was thrown from his post, he caught a hold of the railing on the edge of the ship, but his cries for help were lost in the wind. It had its own shriek, and, in that moment, he swore it swept the fog up into a distorted figure which spoke his name and leaned over him to pry his fingers from the rails, and he was certain that he was lost. The ship was beginning to capsize, and as he fell, he watched it lean treacherously over him as lightning shattered the bell-mast. Then freezing waves closed over him and he saw no more.
When he awoke, he was lying face-down on the few feet of rock shards and pebbles that made up the shore, gripping the shattered rocks so hard that his hands were torn and bleeding, and as he shakily got to his knees, he saw that the sun was setting now on the sea-a great red ball of fire, and his ship was nowhere to be seen. The waves crashed in smaller notes now and the fog had once again turned to light mist. The seafarer looked up to where he had been facing before-and in front of him was the beginning of a cracked stairway, where two burning torches marked the preceding path. He found it hard to breathe, and in gasping, arduous flashes he stretched one limb out, then another, and began to climb, or rather crawl up the way, and in his fear-stricken mind he wondered if a Watcher come to help him, or if they would instead kill him for his trespassing. Then he halted and looked down at the short distance he had climbed.
The water had stilled and reflected the fiery colors of the setting sun. He thought of his crew mates, and with great difficulty he stood up and scanned the visible shore. All was silent and motionless, save for the occasional cry of the circling waterfowl. He stood there for a moment longer and resolved to continue the climb. It was easier to be on his hands and knees, he thought, and went on that way as the wind picked up again and its rustling could be heard throughout the lining of barren trees. His vision blurred and blackened as he continued further and further, his hands and legs slowly failing in their strength, torn and scraped. He stopped there, about midway up the Watcher's path, and lay deathly still as he watched the blood flowing from his wounds, feeling that as it left him so did his living breaths. The sun was just barely touching the water now, and the light had dimmed and cast the world in a foreboding reddish hue. It was getting cold again, and the mist thickened.
It was not a bad last sight. The seafarer’s only hope was that death would come a bit quicker and wondered what he had done to deserve such an end as agonizing as this. As he fruitlessly tried to force each breath to become his last, he was then interrupted by soft footsteps and something clanking behind him. His fear heightened as he turned to see one of them-a Watcher, looking down at him, lantern-staff in hand. The Watcher’s face was expressionless, and his eyes were abnormally large and reflected the present sky, with suns in place of irises. He did not say a word yet held out a hand to the seafarer. He took it and got up with newfound strength, saw that there were many other Watchers behind the first. They immediately moved to one side so that the seafarer could follow the first Watcher up the path. The seafarer felt their eyes burning into him as he passed. His fear had not entirely left him still, and he did not dare break the silence as he followed the Watcher, feeling another sense of resoluteness, as if all his sea-faring adventures were meant to take him here, to be led this way. The sun had half-sunk into the water as the two reached the mountain with the twisted tower. The seafarer stopped just before its doorless entrance as the Watcher went on. His heart twisted with inevitability, and something deep within told him to take the view in as freely as he could before the sun was devoured by the sea. The Watcher’s eyes scorched unceasingly as he did so, and finally the seafarer made his way to the door, and by then the sun was nearly gone.
In the doorway was an indecipherable blackness, and the Watcher held out his arm as the seafarer looked for the last time into his eyes, their suns falling into night. The seafarer stepped back, alarmed, as his body fell from him, and he watched as the Watcher carried his corpse into the blackness.
“I supposed then that I had to enter and become like him. I had concluded that all of these ascenders were lost seafarers like me, too, and I tried to follow. But I was dispelled into the fog as night fell upon us, and I tried to leave, to find some other land, but as long as their light was there, I could not leave. It is fueled by the essence of my corpse, and many other corpses before and after me, and as long as it burns, and as long as the flame is generous enough for their lanterns, I shall never leave.” The seafarer said to me, materializing only as a shadow in the fog, standing at the entrance of the same ascending path where I had presently found myself. “To call them Watchers is not enough, it is too docile. I know that their true title is Sentinel-they keep watch for another who I can never know, they guard our oppressive fog and take the shipwrecked for their fire. Strange, isn’t it? The more souls they take, the thicker the fog will get. Only when they leave the tower do we get to leave this inlet. And mine, my name must have been swept away with the wind.”
(A/N-this was written as a final project for a university class I had this year. Thought it fit here. The song “Only the Wind Remembers my Name” by Drudkh was my inspiration :)