Morning light crept into our modest inn room, slicing through scattered blankets and illuminating four bodies that had no intention of waking up anytime soon. Only Diljeet was already on his feet, fully dressed and calmly sipping chai, looking far too prepared for the day ahead.
“Up, all of you,” he said, clapping once. “We didn’t come here to sleep through the mountains.”
I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. “Just five more minutes…”
Those “five minutes” stretched far longer than planned. By the time we finally dragged ourselves outside, Chitral had already come alive. The streets buzzed with activity—fresh naan baking in ovens, rich karahi simmering, and the sharp mountain air nipping at our cheeks. The scent of pine mixed with dust and smoke from chimneys, while vendors called out in melodic tones. Hooves clattered softly over stone as loaded mules passed through narrow lanes.
We ducked into a small tea shop hidden in an alley, its wooden sign creaking gently overhead. Inside, the owner—a large man with a thick beard and warm, lively eyes—welcomed us with steaming cups of chai and plates overflowing with halwa puri. The food melted in our mouths, and the warmth of the tea seeped into our cold hands like a quiet comfort.
Peter grinned, barely pausing between bites. “This alone was worth the trip.”
Amit laughed. “Sure, forget the haunted mountains—that’s just a bonus.”
After breakfast, we wandered into the bazaar. The place was alive with color—stalls overflowing with woolen caps, intricate shawls, sparkling gemstones, and polished copperware reflecting the morning sun. Children weaved through the crowd, playing games or balancing loads with surprising ease. Amit couldn’t resist trying on a Chitrali cap, striking a dramatic pose as if he ruled the mountains.
Abdul shook his head. “Just don’t expect that charm to help when we reach Kailash.”
Peter smirked. “Speak for yourself. I’ve got charm… and a flashlight. That’s all the protection I need.”
We were still joking when an old man approached us. His pale, almost silver eyes caught my attention immediately—they seemed to look beyond us, as though reading something unseen.
“You’re going further north,” he said calmly.
The laughter faded slightly. “Yes,” I answered.
He gave a slow nod. “The path to Kailash is clear—for now. But the higher you climb, the more the mountains begin to remember.”
Amit tilted his head. “Remember what?”
The man smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “The mountains don’t forget.” Without another word, he turned and slipped away into the crowd, vanishing as quietly as he had appeared.
We stood still for a moment, unsure how to react. The lively sounds of the bazaar dulled in the background, and suddenly the distant peaks felt heavier, more watchful.
Peter cleared his throat. “If the mountains start sharing their memories with me, I’m billing them for therapy.”
Amit chuckled. “Just make sure your clients are well-fed.”
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. “There was something off about him. Like he knew more than he said.”
Abdul adjusted his scarf. “Whatever it is, it won’t wait for us to catch up.”
The rest of the day was spent preparing. We stocked up on warm layers, sturdy boots, water, and enough supplies to last us well beyond comfort. Strangely, many shopkeepers seemed to already know where we were headed. Some simply nodded, others gave faint smiles that didn’t quite feel reassuring. There was respect in their expressions—but also a quiet caution.
By evening, we found ourselves sitting on a rooftop overlooking the town. The sun sank behind the snow-covered peaks, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. Smoke rose gently from chimneys below, and somewhere far off, a lone goat called into the fading light.
We sat in a loose circle, legs hanging over the edge, letting the cold settle in around us. The old man’s words lingered in my thoughts.
“Do you think he meant spirits… or something else?” Peter asked softly.
Diljeet didn’t take his eyes off the mountains. “Whatever it is, it’s there. And we’ll face it soon enough.”
Amit stretched lazily. “Then let’s hope it doesn’t mind us having chai first.”
I smiled faintly. Even with the unknown waiting ahead, our humor kept us steady. It was small, fragile—but it held us together.
Night fell quickly. Lights flickered on across the town, casting a warm glow against the growing darkness. The mountains, now cloaked in deep blue shadows, seemed closer than before—larger, quieter, and far more imposing. Stars began to appear, sharp and distant.
We stayed there, watching the sky, feeling the chill deepen. The wind carried hints of pine, frost, and something faintly earthy. Looking at my friends, I saw it in all of us—anticipation mixed with unease.
“Tomorrow,” Abdul said at last, “we find out what these mountains remember.”
“Or why people avoid them,” I added.
Peter stretched, grinning. “Whatever happens, no encounters before coffee. That’s my rule.”
Amit laughed. “Deal. And I get front-row seats if anything interesting happens.”
Diljeet shook his head, amused. “You never change. But maybe that’s a good thing.”
We lingered there a while longer, warmed by chai and conversation, pushing back the creeping cold. Beyond the town, the mountains stood silent and patient. Tomorrow, the real journey would begin—beyond the last traces of civilization, into something far less certain.
For now, though, we were just five friends, perched above a quiet valley, sharing warmth and laughter under a sky full of stars.
The mountains carried memories. And soon, we would learn what they chose to reveal.
What awaited us there was never meant to be understood.
And if you wish to uncover it… don’t turn away.
ns216.73.216.98da2This work is my own concept and I have done enormous amount of hardwork on it. However the grammar is corrected with AI because it is not my native language.
and then Add to home screen.