Stone and Grip

Silence. Then weight. My knuckles tightened against the cold stone spire. The carved masonry gave slightly beneath my fingers, dust crumbling down into the haze below. I breathed. My chest expanded against the sheer vertical face of the structure. I shifted my right grip downward by an inch, testing the ridged cornices. Solid rock. I held my ground high above the fog, watching the expanse beneath.