Mégisto (mé.ɡis.to)
The trip up Mégisto is, if you'll pardon the pun, one of the high points in my travels. From the base, it seems a quite ordinary mountain, much less impressive than Fugaku. While I was polite, in my mind I discounted the tales of the locals proclaiming Mégisto to be the tallest mountain in the world. Still, I had heard that the view from the peak was something worth seeing, so I decided to make the ascent.
The path up Mégisto begins simply enough. It is not a difficult climb, and I was scrupulous in observing the local tradition of stopping at the various shrines along the way to make the prescribed offerings to the god of the mountain. These were simple things - a pomegranate at one shrine, a bundle of goose feathers at another - but my guides insisted that they were symbolically important and that the mountain could not be safely climbed without them. It was no hardship to me, and as you know, I always try to respect the local gods in their ways.
As the day wore on, I was surprised by how long the path was. It didn't seem to be winding or otherwise elongated, but the summit seemed to be growing further as we climbed, rather than approaching. Finally we reached the shrine were we would spend the night, and I was surprised to see that Mégisto now appeared to be much higher than I had seen from the base. As dusk descended, I marveled at how far across the land I could see - after only the first day of climbing, I could see the entirety of the Kaphtor Islands, and lights on the horizon that must have been ships at sea, as no other lands could possibly have been within view.
In total, the ascent to the top of Mégisto took three days, and I suspect that the time had more to do with symbology than geography in the end. We climbed past the trees, and past the clouds, and finally past the sky itself, the blue fading away to star-speckled night despite the sun's presence. The offerings at the shrines made more sense now - with each one, I felt a blessing of some sort rest upon me. At one of the later shrines, I was freed from the need to breathe at all, and while I could feel the cold I no longer suffered from it.
Finally we reached the highest point of the mountain. A tower stands there, much like a lighthouse, but made of a strange metal - like steel, but also unlike it. My guides couldn't tell me who had built the tower, and called a 'dream whose time has not yet come'. But the tower is not the true reason to climb Mégisto.
I could see everything. The whole world was laid out before me - even places I know should have been hidden by the curve of the globe. It was beautiful - more beautiful than I can put into words. I could see how the sea and land connected and interacted, and knew that I was a part of the glorious tapestry that is our world. I could see the works of people, too - as night fell, the Ring of Light became apparant, joining all the islands together in a prayer of safety and prosperity and homecomings, and this too was beautiful.
We descended the mountain in peaceful and happy silence. The climb down was no harder than the ascent, and provided ample time to consider the experience of the peak. During the trip to the base, I decided it was time to come home for a time - it has been too long since I have been in the company of my family, and I find myself longing to see Shima again before another year passes. Look for Yukinu in the harbor - she will be bringing me home as quickly as wind and current permits.
- Miyagi Yumeko, in a letter to her son.
Mégisto is the highest mountain on the island of Kastellorizo. The inhabitants of the island claim it is the highest peak in the world, but only from the top. Many scoff at this claim when they see the mountain, as from sea level it seems smaller than many others. However, those who climb Mégisto agree with the locals. The climb takes far longer than it should, and when the pinnacle is reached it is far above the clouds.
In order to survive the ascent, climbers must stop and make specific prayers and offerings at shrines along the path - those who fail to do so find it impossible to proceed due to the freezing temperatures and thin air in the upper regions of the mountain.
Those who climb Mégisto often return changed from the experience, as they find the view from the peak instills a sense of connection with the world and the people in it. This effect can persist in those who embrace it, and some people find that it redirects their lives.
Geographic Details
Location: Southeastern RegionLatitude: 38.65 degrees North
Longitude: 42.08 degrees East
Elevation: 2,953 ft (as observed from the base)
This article was originally written for Spooktober 2024. You can find all of my Spooktober Articles at Spooktober Central.
This article was originally written for Spooktober 2023. You can find all of my Spooktober Articles at Spooktober Central.
Love the letter and premise of a deceptive mountain, good job :) Is there a reason behind the illusion? Perhaps something magical to do with the god of the mountain?
I have an answer to this, tied up in the metaphysics of the setting (specifically in the Egregoric Force (https://www.worldanvil.com/w/the-million-islands-demongrey/a/the-egregoric-force-law), and your question has inspired me to add a section for "How Did This Happen" once the WE awards are over (this isn't submitted for one, but I'm not clear on how articles edited between Jan 1 and Jan 27 impact the WorldEmber badges). Regardless, keep an eye on this page for a new section inspired by your comment!
Excellent, I'll have a read of that when I get chance. Glad it prompted more worldbuilding :)