Chapter 2: Ascension

Darkened and oxidised, it still burnt virulently, hellbent on forcing its cremation. The fuel it had to sustain its blaze was only sufficient for a few more minutes, wailing in agony with a voice nonexistent - yet it persisted. Once those few minutes had elapsed, it rejoiced through the crimson blanket it wore so unwillingly; alas, it could only yield in horror as its captor refilled the fuel vat, its torture to continue for another several hours now. But of course, all of this would be a fable at best, for it perceived nothing, not even light.

"There's so little left that it's practically water... I might as well have brought fat from the butcher."

Cursing Standard Oil, Henrik paused momentarily to top up his paraffin lamp before continuing his venture. Halfway up Mt. Ebott, he had chosen to take shelter in a derelict, abandoned cottage - its glass eyes encased in rotting wood wearily watched him approach, empty. Fortunately for Henrik, the only eldritch entity awaiting him in the darkness was a naive chicken, innocently clucking at him. Upon investigation, he found a backdoor with a vaguely rectangular hole at the bottom; perhaps a cat flap during its better years, but the flap in question had vanished. After "patching up" the hole by ramming a goat pelt cushion into it, he solemnly approached the clucker, fingering the edge of his axe as he bore into its eyes; they looked impossibly daft, he thought, especially given how healthy it was. There was no way it should've been able to live thus far. Alas, for it, its intelligence was not relevant now.

An hour passed with little occurrences, save for Henrik waddling around like an overstuffed penguin. Slightly groaning yet contently satiated, he tottered up the stairs, his blood-stained axe dripping in his loose hold. The cottage began to reek of a sanguine scent he knew all too well as a butcher, yet was bearable after a few years. Finding a surprisingly usable bedroom, he propped his axe on the wall nearby and crawled onto the wooden frame of a bed, extinguishing his lamp and setting it on the table. The latter was in unity with him, both toiling at their tasks: it struggled to hold the paraffin-fueled beacon, and he endlessly rolled around on his log of a bed. At last, however, both seemed to have won; he awoke peacefully to the sun, and it had not collapsed during the night.

Carrying his rucksack and lantern for safekeeping, he left with axe in hand, leaving "Leonard"'s bony cadaver behind to naturally decay. After all, the house was in ruins anyways - what harm would a chicken corpse do? As he left the door open, chances were a wild dog would have taken its spoils in due time. He proceeded to circle the mount whilst slowly hiking upwards, performing a cursory inspection of the resources he presumed it would have. To his dismay, there was scant: a few trees, a stray sparrow, and useless rocks. Not even as much as a pond.

"No water, no food and hardly any trees? This place's less hospitable than I first thought. Perhaps there might be something at the peak, however..."

He consequently trekked upwards, his agitation beginning to grow. If he had nothing of use here, then the village - even with its diminishing population of livestock and fish - would still be a better place to reside. Attempting to stay hopeful, he pushed on, occasionally using his axe to slash rogue branches out of sight, reprimanded by scattering birds as he did so. Finally, he reached the top, gifted by the gods with an adolescent's unspeakable dream: a large hole.

"Well, that'd be convenient if I was depressed, but not sure what I can do with it now."

Visibly unimpressed, he circled the downward cave, peering into the black abyss as he clutched onto his lantern and axe for fear of dropping them.

Ironically enough, it was not those he needed to worry about.

Growing fatefully too distracted, he began dragging his feet on the ground, ignoring their cautionary noises until it was too late; his foot snagged on a green vine, two inches in diameter yet vicious in its tug, as he collapsed, rolling down into the limbo he previously avoided. Although he hollered as he fell, it was to no avail - gravity had no ears to hear his cries. Thus, he evanesced as the obsidian void consumed him, no trace of him left behind.