The summit of Mount Everest was silent.
Not the ordinary kind of silence William had known before.
This silence felt ancient.
A silence born from endless years of snow, wind, and solitude.
The world stretched beneath him like a painting.
Mountain ranges disappeared beyond the horizon.
Clouds drifted below his feet.
The sky seemed impossibly close.
And yet, despite standing atop the highest place on Earth, William's attention wasn't on the view.
It was on the old man.
For the past several weeks, they had remained near the summit.
Training.
Meditating.
Learning.
Or rather, William had been learning.
The old man spent most of his time doing things that made absolutely no sense.
Such as floating.
At first William thought he was imagining it.
But after seeing it dozens of times, there was no denying reality.
The old man would simply stand up...
And leave the ground.
No effort.
No visible energy.
No spell.
No movement.
One moment he stood on the snow.
The next moment he was fifty meters in the air.
Sometimes he disappeared into the clouds for hours before returning.
Other times he drifted around mountain peaks as casually as someone taking a walk.
The sight never stopped feeling absurd.
Today was no different.
William watched from a rocky ledge as the old man floated above a nearby cliff.
The wind howled around him.
His robes fluttered violently.
Yet his body remained perfectly still.
Like a leaf resting on invisible water.
William stared for several minutes before finally standing.
He had reached his limit.
"Master."
The old man slowly descended.
His feet touched the snow.
"What is it?"
William crossed his arms.
"I want you to teach me."
The old man raised an eyebrow.
"Teach you what?"
"You know exactly what."
A small smile appeared on the old man's face.
"The flying."
The smile widened.
"I wondered how long it would take before you asked."
William frowned.
"Then teach me."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without consideration.
Simply no.
William blinked.
"...No?"
"No."
William stared.
The old man stared back.
Neither moved.
Eventually William sighed.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"You refuse?"
"I do."
William felt irritation rise inside him.
After everything he had endured.
After oceans.
Volcanoes.
Deserts.
Forests.
After nearly dying countless times.
The old man was refusing because...
Why exactly?
"Can I at least know why?"
The old man looked toward the horizon.
For several moments he remained silent.
Then he spoke.
"Because you're asking the wrong question."
William frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"You ask me to teach you how to fly."
The old man slowly shook his head.
"But flying is not a skill."
William stared.
"That makes absolutely no sense."
The old man chuckled.
"Of course it doesn't."
Then he pointed toward the sky.
"Tell me, William."
"What keeps you on the ground?"
"The ground?"
"No."
"The thing beneath the ground."
William thought for a moment.
"Gravity."
The old man nodded.
"And what is gravity?"
William opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
He realized he had no answer.
The old man smiled.
"Most people spend their lives accepting the world."
"They never question it."
"They never understand it."
"They simply obey it."
The wind carried his words across the mountain.
"But everything obeys rules."
"The ocean."
"The volcanoes."
"The desert."
"The forest."
"The air."
He turned toward William.
"And now..."
"You must understand the rules beneath the rules."
The following morning, the lesson began.
The old man sat on a flat section of stone overlooking a frozen valley.
William sat across from him.
Snow drifted through the air.
Neither seemed bothered by the cold.
"What is everything made of?"
The question came unexpectedly.
William blinked.
"What?"
"What is everything made of?"
William looked around.
"The earth?"
"The sky?"
"The mountains?"
"The trees?"
"The animals?"
The old man nodded.
"Everything."
William shrugged.
"Matter?"
The old man smiled.
"Not wrong."
"But incomplete."
He picked up a small stone.
Then held it in front of William.
"This stone."
He tapped it lightly.
"Looks solid."
"Feels solid."
"Yet it isn't."
William frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The old man tossed the stone away.
"It is made of countless smaller pieces."
"Pieces so small you cannot see them."
William listened quietly.
"Those pieces form larger structures."
"Those larger structures form everything you know."
The old man's eyes narrowed.
"The mountain beneath your feet."
"The clouds above your head."
"The blood inside your veins."
"Every one of them is built from the same foundation."
William stared.
A strange feeling crept into his chest.
"You're talking about atoms."
The old man smiled.
"So you know the word."
"Of course I do."
"Good."
The smile disappeared.
"Then learn to speak with them."
William froze.
Several seconds passed.
Then he laughed.
The old man did not.
The laughter slowly died.
"...You're serious."
"I am."
William rubbed his forehead.
"You want me to communicate with atoms."
"Yes."
"I can't even see them."
"You couldn't see the rhythm of the ocean either."
William opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
"You couldn't see the life hidden beneath the desert."
The old man continued.
"You couldn't see the thoughts of the wolf."
"You couldn't see the currents in the air."
His gaze sharpened.
"And yet you learned to understand them."
William remained silent.
The old man leaned forward.
"Vision is not understanding."
The training began immediately.
And it was horrible.
The first day produced nothing.
The second day produced nothing.
The third day produced nothing.
A week passed.
Nothing.
Two weeks.
Nothing.
A month.
Still nothing.
William sat for hours every day.
Eyes closed.
Breathing steady.
Searching.
Listening.
Feeling.
Trying to perceive something beyond ordinary senses.
Nothing answered.
Nothing moved.
Nothing changed.
The world remained stubbornly silent.
Every previous lesson had offered progress.
The ocean eventually revealed its rhythm.
Animals eventually responded.
Even the air had eventually become visible to his senses.
But this?
This felt impossible.
One evening he slammed his fist into the snow.
Frustration exploded from him.
"This is pointless."
The old man looked up from a nearby rock.
"No."
"It is."
William stood.
"I can't feel anything."
"No."
"I can't see anything."
"No."
"I can't communicate with anything."
The old man smiled.
"No."
William's eye twitched.
"Would you stop saying no?"
The old man's smile widened.
"Then stop repeating the same mistake."
The wind howled between the peaks.
William stared.
"What mistake?"
The old man slowly stood.
Then walked forward.
One step.
Two steps.
Until he stood directly in front of William.
Then he placed a hand against William's chest.
Right above his heart.
The old man's voice became softer.
"Why are you looking outside?"
William frowned.
"What?"
The old man's fingers lightly tapped his chest.
"Your body contains more atoms than stars most people will ever see."
William froze.
The old man's eyes met his.
"You search the mountains."
"You search the sky."
"You search the air."
His hand remained against William's chest.
"Search here."
A strange silence followed.
For the first time since beginning the training...
William felt as though he had been looking in the wrong direction all along.
And somewhere deep inside him...
Something stirred.