Towers rise above the snow covered mountain like soldiers at Buckingham Palace. As the horizon trails behind, we stagger through the snow. Comrades are not sure if we will make it in time. Many of our numbers have perished. Our rations have depleted in the last few days.
Yet, we keep on climbing.
Tomorrow we will finally get to our destination. What will we find when we get there? I’m not sure. But our orders were imperative.
Open the gateway or life as we know it will end.