Within the Misted Isles of the Western Sea, a dark form, veiled in deep fog, navigates the unnaturally calm waters to a spiny crag of rock. The mountain erupts out of the dark sea at such a steep angle that it is referred to Daggers Edge, “The mountain that cuts the heavens”. The shadowed form emerges from the thick fog on to a steep ledge of obsidian at the base of the Daggers Edge. The form resolves itself to be a lean young man, no older than twenty-seven with a ragged appearance and a determined glint in his eyes. He steps forth onto the narrow path, no wider than two feet, carved out of the volcanic stone. The path progressively narrows, the higher he climbs. It is wetted by the ever present mist with a texture that is most similar to a cats tongue. Higher and higher he climbs, nearly plummeting to his death numerous times. He finally reaches a point where the path completely vanishes. It is about halfway up the cliff face, two miles above the rolling sea. To his right, there is a crack in the wall, just wide enough for a man to edge in sideways. He presses himself in to the fissure; it was a tight fit, as he moves forward occasionally the uneven walls would dig in to him.
Deeper and deeper he moves onward, slowly the light starts to abandon him and eventually he is enveloped in true darkness. A bright multi-colored light abruptly starts flashing periodically. When it began, he would only see it once every couple of minutes but the frequency increased progressively  every second. He starts to feel nauseous and disoriented; the pain from his numerous bruises and lacerations starts to subsides to a dull hum of feeling.  Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet evaporates sending him plummeting down. The walls that once confined him vanished as he fell. The pulsing light faded and he was engulfed in black once more.
Time had no meaning to him. The only sensation he knew was falling or he thought he was still in a downward motion, his sense of vertigo disappeared sometime ago. How long has it been? Hours, minutes, days, seconds? He slips into unconsciousness. He awakes with pain racking his body, nearly eclipsed by his splitting headache. He was in, on, within, a presence of crimson. Before him there was a tornado of black and blue flame, raging uncontrollably.  He stumbles onto his feet. There he stood, battered, bleeding, a shell of the man he  once was but his now glazed eyes still held a glint of determination.
  He began to beg, but not for his life.
He begs for his beloved, the very reason made this mad journey. Her sickness had grown worse and ended with her death hours before he step foot on the Daggers Edge .
“Please bring her back. PLEASE, I BEG YOU!” he cries with a quaver in his voice.
Then he hears something. It was a deep voice, sounding like time’s passage itself. ”Why?” The entity blasts with the force of decades. The man quivered under the voice. “Who are you to ask me, a god, a being that you can not even comprehend? For what the life of another equally insignificantes? ”
“Bring her back! Please just bring her back. I will do anything.” Now groveling before the inferno.
“Hmmm.” The sound rattles the mans very essences. “I want you. Your soul for hers.”
“YES, DO IT! JUST BRING HER BACK!” Now prostrating himself before the entity. 
“So it will be.” The voice starts laughing hysterically. Suddenly pain, unthinkable pain. Every tendon stretching, snapping, braking. Bones liquefying slowly.
The voice asks, “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes... no point... without her...” he gasps.
Suddenly, there is no pain. He is in the boat with his girl in his arms now with a pulse. He starts to cry holding her tighter and tighter. There he is racked with relief.
“What’s wrong?” The girl said and he clung all the more. “Stop, you're hurting me.” Releasing her. Contenting himself just to gaze upon her. Later he swears he heard the same  voice say .
“You are a good man. Live your life and I hope not to see you again... For your sake.” The sound resounded across the water.