Steps

He stands on the brink.

The path behind him is a winding trail of missteps and surprises, but the steps were easy to see. Ahead, he sees nothing but a whirling morass of clouds swirling through a deep valley. Over the chaos before him, he can still hear the beautiful strains that have lured him thus far. But here the path fades to gray mists. It is almost as if the ground itself was swallowed by the curtain of fog that obscures his way. If he steps forward, will he be able to find his way, or will he lose the melody in the thick blanket and never find his way out? Is there even a way out on the other side? Will the ground hold him, or will he lose his footing and tumble into the abyss? Is there even any ground to stand on?

He knows he cannot go back; his destination lies ahead. He must move forward. The song compels him.

The storm is coming.