The Last Step to the Summit

The wind howled like a chorus of restless spirits, whipping across the jagged cliffs of Mount Karis. At 8,000 meters, the air was thin, each breath a deliberate act of will. Lena crouched against the rock face, her fingers numb inside her gloves, her heart pounding not just from exertion but from the weight of the moment. The summit was close—closer than it had ever been in her three attempts to conquer this unforgiving peak. But the last step, the final stretch, was always the hardest. Lena wasn’t born a mountaineer. Growing up in a small coastal town, she’d spent her childhood watching waves crash against the shore, dreaming of adventures beyond the horizon. But at sixteen, a documentary about Karis, the “Untamed Titan,” changed everything. Its sheer cliffs, unpredictable storms, and haunting beauty called to her. She trained relentlessly, trading sandy beaches for icy slopes, learning to climb, to breathe, to survive. Karis became her obsession, her purpose. Twice she’d tried to summit, and twice she’d turned back—once due to a blizzard, once due to a teammate’s injury. Each failure carved a deeper resolve into her soul. Now, at thirty-two, Lena was here again. Her team had dwindled; two had retreated due to altitude sickness, leaving her and her guide, Tashi, a wiry Sherpa with eyes that held the wisdom of a hundred climbs. The summit ridge was a knife-edge, a narrow path flanked by plummeting drops. Snow swirled around them, obscuring the path ahead. Tashi’s voice crackled through the radio: “Lena, storm’s coming. We have one hour, maybe less. Your call.” Her call. The words echoed in her mind. Turning back was logical, safe. But safe wasn’t why she’d spent years training, sacrificing, dreaming. She thought of her father, who’d passed last year, his voice still clear: “The summit isn’t just a place, Lena. It’s who you become getting there.” She adjusted her oxygen mask, her breath steadying. “We go,” she said. The climb was brutal. Each step felt like lifting the weight of her doubts. The wind screamed, pushing her toward the abyss. Her legs burned, her lungs ached, but she moved forward, Tashi’s steady presence a silent anchor. At one point, her foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, she dangled over the void, her ice axe the only thing holding her. Tashi’s hand gripped her harness, pulling her back. “Not today,” he said, his grin defiant against the storm. As they neared the summit, the ridge narrowed to a mere foot’s width. Lena’s world shrank to the next step, the next breath. She could no longer see the summit through the snow, only the faint outline of Tashi ahead. Doubt crept in, whispering that she wasn’t enough, that Karis would win again. But then she remembered her first climb, a small hill near her town. She’d been terrified, but her father had said, “Fear’s just a sign you’re alive. Keep going.” She did. Suddenly, the ridge widened. The snow parted, and there it was—the summit. A small, flat expanse, no bigger than a dining table, marked by a tattered prayer flag. Lena’s knees buckled, not from exhaustion but from the surge of emotion. She stumbled forward, Tashi at her side, and sank to her knees. Tears froze on her cheeks as she touched the snow, the summit hers at last. Standing there, the world sprawling below, Lena realized the truth. The last step wasn’t just the final stride to the summit. It was every moment she’d chosen to keep going—through failure, fear, and loss. It was the courage to face the storm, the strength to trust herself. The summit was a place, yes, but her father was right: it was who she’d become. As they began their descent, the storm closed in, but Lena felt no fear. She’d taken the last step. And that was enough.