Zirak-zigil loomed above him; a tall, brooding presence that matched his mood. There was silence apart from the moan of the wind, broken only by the faint cries of eagles far below him, yet there was a harsh beauty here so high above the world. Weather beaten stone, sculpted and worn smooth by wind, rain and snow surrounded him, twisted into fantastic shapes. There were a thousand shades of grey as rock, sky and cloud merged into one.
But here at last was a different colour, a tumbled rock split open to reveal a glittering vein of pure white quartz.