Serena Chang perched on the precipice, a solitary silhouette against the vast expanse of white that cascaded down the mountain. Her petite frame was coiled with the tension of an athlete, raven-black hair peeking out from under her helmet, every muscle primed for the descent. The air was sharp, biting at her exposed skin, but inside her chest, her heart hammered with the feverish rhythm of anticipation.
She surveyed the slope below, a city planner's mind unconsciously assessing angles and trajectories amidst the wild canvas of nature. For a moment, she stood suspended in time, the world around her a silent witness to the upcoming thrill. Then, with a swift kick against the packed snow, she launched herself forward.
The whoosh of her board cutting through the pristine powder filled her ears, a sound both soothing and electrifying. The wind tore at her face, whipping her hair back as she gained momentum, carving a path down the mountain's spine. This was freedom—a stark contrast to the meticulous grids of urban landscapes she navigated daily.
Her breaths came out in frosty bursts, the cold air funneling into her lungs and setting her blood alight with adrenaline. Each turn, each shift of weight was a wordless dialogue between her and the mountain, a dance of danger and beauty that left no room for hesitation.
Serena leaned into the descent, embracing the speed, the sheer exhilaration of movement as she descended from the peak. Obligations, the ever-present sense of duty that governed her life, all dissolved in the rush of the moment. Here, there was only the mountain, the snow, and her solitary figure etching a fleeting trail upon them.
A sudden, loud bang rocked through the symphony of wind and snow, shattering the mountain’s tranquility and cleaving the moment in two. Serena's heart lurched, her body instinctively tensing, the board skittering beneath her like a startled animal. For a terrifying second, she teetered on the edge of control, the meticulously planned descent devolving into chaos.
"Focus," she hissed between clenched teeth, willing her muscles to remember their training. With an effort that seemed to draw on reserves she didn't know she had, Serena realigned her center of gravity and steadied the board. She carved a wide arc, spraying snow in her wake—a deliberate assertion of control, defying the unexpected interruption.
No sooner had she settled back into the rhythm of her descent than another, more ominous shift seized her attention. The mountain beneath her seemed to grumble, discontent stirring its vast bulk. A tremor of fear crawled up her spine as she felt, more than saw, the upheaval buildingin the white slope, the snow churning under her.
"God, no," she whispered, a prayer to the indifferent expanse. The ground beneath her was betraying her, transforming from a solid mass to a roiling sea of white. The air itself vibrated with the threat of annihilation.
Avalanche.
The word detonated in her mind, and Serena's gaze darted over the mountain, seeking some landmark, some miracle of geography that might offer refuge. But there was only the slope, relentless and steep, and the gathering roar behind her as the mountain shed its coat in wrathful pursuit.
Panic clawed at her, raw and wild, but Serena forced it down. She couldn't afford to lose herself to fear—not when every second counted, not when her path down was suddenly a race against crushing oblivion. Her breaths were ragged bursts of mist, each exhale a visual testament to the cold terror gripping her.
"Survive," she commanded herself, the singular thought going off like an emergency flare in her mind. Serena leaned forward, urging more speed from her already racing descent, the avalanche grumbling and cracking like a thunderous giant roused from slumber, rolling down behind her at her heels.
Survive, her mind ordered. The mountain wouldn’t take her—not today.
Serena scanned through the thickening haze of snow for any sliver of salvation—an outcropping, a tree line, anything to break free from the mountain's icy grasp. Then, like a phantom emerging from the blizzard's veil, a figure materialized in the distance.
A man stood beside a truck parked incongruously on an overlook that jutted into the path of destruction. His arm hung over his head, suspended in the air like a motionless waving gesture. It was an oddly unsettling pose, as if the figure were a mannequinor had frozen halfway through a beckoning wave.
Serena's brow furrowed, her thoughts momentarily breaking from the tide of ice and snow. She thought she’d been alone. Who was that? Why was he here?
Alarm bells rang in her head, louder than the thunderous cascade barreling toward her. That same word in her head, survive, now took on a new, more sinister, tone.
He wasn’t flagging herdown, or trying to direct her to safety. He was waving at her. A slow, cheeky, mocking wave.
Serena gaped. And she then spotted the fireworks on the back of the man’s truck.
The bang. Had he caused the avalanche?
She could almost see him smiling, but then her snowboard whisked her past, horror in her veins.
The ground lurched beneath her board, a violent tremor that made her arms wheel with the effort of staying upright. Then with a deafening roar that snuffed out all other sounds, the world tilted. A wall of white crashed over her, a relentless tide that spared no mercy. The force was colossal, an unseen fist that struck with brutal precision, sweeping her feet from under her.
Airborne then earthbound, Serena tumbled, the sky and the snow swapping places in a dizzying and chaotic dance. Her last glimpse before the mountain claimed her was of the man in the truck, his figure fading behind the curtain of snow.
Serena's breath hitched in a gasp as the avalanche swallowed her whole, and she tasted snow, feeling it melt on her tongue as she quickly closed her eyes and mouth against the crush of icy crystals. The world became a blur of motion, a maelstrom of icy white that spun her body without mercy. She felt her limbs flailing, trying to obey the instinctual command to swim upwards, towards life.
Stay up, she told herself, the unspoken words barely forming the frozen torrent. Panic clawed at her throat. Her lungs spasmed with the urge to breathe under the white that buried her. Her arms swept ahead of her, and the boil of unsettled snow gave her thin, hazy glimpses of the sky overhead.
Amidst the turmoil, her eyes—those sharp, raven pools adapted to discerning shadow from substance in architectural blueprints—caught sight of something utterly out of place. Bright flashes of color burst through the snow's curtain, a surreal contrast to the monochrome horror that engulfed her.
Fireworks? she thought incredulously, her mind grappling with the oddity even as her body grappled with the snow. They were scattered haphazardly across the mountain’s slope, their hues stark against the encroaching white. An absurd detail to fixate on, yet there it was, imprinted on her retreating consciousness—the vibrancy of reds, blues, and greens amidst the relentless assault of nature.
With every twist of her body, every kick of her legs, Serena battled towards the surface. But the weight of the avalanche was relentless, swirling below as it dragged her deeper, pulling her in a frozen undertow, cutting off the light and the bizarre display of pyrotechnics flickering in and out of her view.