The next day, I wandered through the valley, drawn to the source of the Arveiron, where the river begins, flowing out of a massive glacier. The sheer cliffs of the mountains loomed around me, their icy walls towering overhead. A few broken pine trees clung to the rocks, and the only sounds were the rushing waters and the distant rumble of falling ice. Here, in this untouched wilderness, I found a strange sense of peace. The grandeur of nature made my grief feel smaller, less important. The sight of these timeless landscapes didn’t erase my sorrow, but it softened its edges, easing the burden I had carried for so long.
That night, I fell asleep to the sound of the river. In my dreams, I saw the towering peaks and frozen valleys, the soaring eagles and crashing waterfalls, as if nature itself was urging me to let go of my pain. But when I awoke the next morning, all my comfort vanished. The rain fell in thick sheets, a heavy mist clung to the mountains, and the world was grey and lifeless. Even my "mighty friends," as I had thought of them the day before, were hidden behind the storm. But I refused to be defeated by the weather. I resolved to climb Montanvert, a high mountain overlooking the glacier.
The path was steep, winding sharply up the mountainside. It was a lonely and desolate place, where the winter avalanches had left their mark—trees lay shattered on the ground, some flattened, others leaning against the rocks at odd angles. The further I climbed, the more dangerous it became. Loose stones tumbled down from above, and in some places, the slightest noise could trigger a deadly rockfall. The trees grew sparse, their dark shapes adding to the eerie atmosphere. Below me, thick mist curled over the valley, swallowing the rivers and villages. The sky was dark with storm clouds, and the rain lashed against me.
At last, I reached the top. For a while, I sat on a rock, gazing out over the massive glacier below. At first, the mist covered everything, but then a sudden gust of wind cleared the air, revealing the breathtaking sight beneath me. The glacier stretched out like a frozen sea, its surface uneven, rising in jagged peaks and deep crevasses. The sight of it filled me with a strange kind of awe, a mix of admiration and fear. This was nature at its most powerful, untouched by human hands, endless and eternal. For a brief moment, I felt something like joy.
“Spirits of this place,” I murmured, “if you truly exist, let me share in your peace, or take me away with you, far from the pain of this world.”
Just as the words left my lips, I saw something in the distance. A figure was moving towards me with unnatural speed. My breath caught in my throat as I watched it leap effortlessly over the deep cracks in the ice—places where I had picked my way cautiously, fearing every step. As it came closer, I saw its towering frame, far taller than any man. A wave of horror swept over me. I knew instantly who it was.
The monster.
The sight of him filled me with rage. My hands clenched into fists, my body tensed, ready to fight. I could barely speak, my fury so overwhelming that I could only spit out my hatred in broken words.
“Devil!” I shouted. “How dare you come near me? Do you not fear my vengeance? I should crush you where you stand, wipe you from existence! If only killing you could bring back those you have murdered!”
The creature didn’t flinch. He had expected this. His face was twisted with pain, but there was also anger and something else—something almost like sorrow.
“All men hate the wretched,” he said. “No one has suffered as I have, and no one is hated as I am. Even you, my creator, reject me, though you are bound to me in a way no one else is. You want to destroy me. How can you play with life so carelessly? I ask only this—do your duty to me, and I will do mine to you. If you grant my request, I will leave you and all humanity in peace. But if you refuse, I will unleash a misery upon you that will not end until I have taken everything you love.”
I could barely contain my rage. “Monster! Fiend! Even the worst torments of hell would be too kind for you! You dare speak to me of duty? You should never have existed! If I had the strength, I would end you now!”
I lunged at him, but he dodged me easily, his movements too quick, his body too strong.
“Calm yourself,” he said. “You think I have not suffered enough? Do you wish to make my misery even greater? Life, however painful, is still precious to me, and I will fight for it. But I do not want to fight you, Frankenstein. You created me—you alone owe me kindness, and yet you treat me worse than any stranger. I was made by your hands, yet you drive me away as if I were a wild beast. Am I not your responsibility? I should have been like Adam, the first of my kind, loved and cared for. Instead, I am a fallen angel, cast out, despised. I was once good, but misery has turned me into what you see now. If you give me a chance at happiness, I will be good again.”
“Never,” I spat. “There is no peace between us. We are enemies. Either leave now, or let us settle this with a fight.”
His expression darkened. “Will nothing make you listen? Have you no heart? No pity? I was made to feel, to think, to hope—but I am alone, completely alone. Even my own creator hates me. I have wandered through the world, and everywhere I go, I am met with horror and disgust. I have no place among men. So I have come here, to the mountains, where at least the ice does not reject me. But even the sky and the snow are kinder than the people who have shunned me. They hunt me, fear me, despise me. Shall I not hate them in return? I am miserable, and I will make them miserable too.”
His voice softened, almost pleading. “Yet, you have the power to stop this. Show me mercy, and I will show mercy in return. Listen to my story, and then decide. Even the guilty are allowed to defend themselves before they are sentenced to death. Listen, and when you have heard all, judge me as you see fit. If, after hearing my tale, you still hate me, then so be it.”
His words unsettled me. A small part of me, buried beneath my rage and grief, recognised the truth in what he said. I had created him. Did I not owe him at least this much? I had always assumed he was the murderer of my brother, but perhaps I needed to hear his story before I condemned him completely.
“Why should I listen to you?” I muttered. “Why remind me of the horrors you have caused?”
He sighed and covered his face with his hands, as though exhausted. “If I am a monster, it is because I was made to be one,” he said quietly. “If I had been treated with kindness, I would not be what I am now. Listen to my story, Frankenstein. I do not ask for forgiveness—only understanding. Come with me, and by the time the sun sets behind these mountains, you will have heard the truth.”
He turned and walked across the ice. For a moment, I hesitated. But then, curiosity and something deeper—something almost like duty—urged me to follow. Silently, I trailed behind him, climbing towards a small hut in the mountains, my heart heavy with fear and dread.
Whatever I was about to hear, I knew one thing: it would change everything.
That night, I fell asleep to the sound of the river. In my dreams, I saw the towering peaks and frozen valleys, the soaring eagles and crashing waterfalls, as if nature itself was urging me to let go of my pain. But when I awoke the next morning, all my comfort vanished. The rain fell in thick sheets, a heavy mist clung to the mountains, and the world was grey and lifeless. Even my "mighty friends," as I had thought of them the day before, were hidden behind the storm. But I refused to be defeated by the weather. I resolved to climb Montanvert, a high mountain overlooking the glacier.
The path was steep, winding sharply up the mountainside. It was a lonely and desolate place, where the winter avalanches had left their mark—trees lay shattered on the ground, some flattened, others leaning against the rocks at odd angles. The further I climbed, the more dangerous it became. Loose stones tumbled down from above, and in some places, the slightest noise could trigger a deadly rockfall. The trees grew sparse, their dark shapes adding to the eerie atmosphere. Below me, thick mist curled over the valley, swallowing the rivers and villages. The sky was dark with storm clouds, and the rain lashed against me.
At last, I reached the top. For a while, I sat on a rock, gazing out over the massive glacier below. At first, the mist covered everything, but then a sudden gust of wind cleared the air, revealing the breathtaking sight beneath me. The glacier stretched out like a frozen sea, its surface uneven, rising in jagged peaks and deep crevasses. The sight of it filled me with a strange kind of awe, a mix of admiration and fear. This was nature at its most powerful, untouched by human hands, endless and eternal. For a brief moment, I felt something like joy.
“Spirits of this place,” I murmured, “if you truly exist, let me share in your peace, or take me away with you, far from the pain of this world.”
Just as the words left my lips, I saw something in the distance. A figure was moving towards me with unnatural speed. My breath caught in my throat as I watched it leap effortlessly over the deep cracks in the ice—places where I had picked my way cautiously, fearing every step. As it came closer, I saw its towering frame, far taller than any man. A wave of horror swept over me. I knew instantly who it was.
The monster.
The sight of him filled me with rage. My hands clenched into fists, my body tensed, ready to fight. I could barely speak, my fury so overwhelming that I could only spit out my hatred in broken words.
“Devil!” I shouted. “How dare you come near me? Do you not fear my vengeance? I should crush you where you stand, wipe you from existence! If only killing you could bring back those you have murdered!”
The creature didn’t flinch. He had expected this. His face was twisted with pain, but there was also anger and something else—something almost like sorrow.
“All men hate the wretched,” he said. “No one has suffered as I have, and no one is hated as I am. Even you, my creator, reject me, though you are bound to me in a way no one else is. You want to destroy me. How can you play with life so carelessly? I ask only this—do your duty to me, and I will do mine to you. If you grant my request, I will leave you and all humanity in peace. But if you refuse, I will unleash a misery upon you that will not end until I have taken everything you love.”
I could barely contain my rage. “Monster! Fiend! Even the worst torments of hell would be too kind for you! You dare speak to me of duty? You should never have existed! If I had the strength, I would end you now!”
I lunged at him, but he dodged me easily, his movements too quick, his body too strong.
“Calm yourself,” he said. “You think I have not suffered enough? Do you wish to make my misery even greater? Life, however painful, is still precious to me, and I will fight for it. But I do not want to fight you, Frankenstein. You created me—you alone owe me kindness, and yet you treat me worse than any stranger. I was made by your hands, yet you drive me away as if I were a wild beast. Am I not your responsibility? I should have been like Adam, the first of my kind, loved and cared for. Instead, I am a fallen angel, cast out, despised. I was once good, but misery has turned me into what you see now. If you give me a chance at happiness, I will be good again.”
“Never,” I spat. “There is no peace between us. We are enemies. Either leave now, or let us settle this with a fight.”
His expression darkened. “Will nothing make you listen? Have you no heart? No pity? I was made to feel, to think, to hope—but I am alone, completely alone. Even my own creator hates me. I have wandered through the world, and everywhere I go, I am met with horror and disgust. I have no place among men. So I have come here, to the mountains, where at least the ice does not reject me. But even the sky and the snow are kinder than the people who have shunned me. They hunt me, fear me, despise me. Shall I not hate them in return? I am miserable, and I will make them miserable too.”
His voice softened, almost pleading. “Yet, you have the power to stop this. Show me mercy, and I will show mercy in return. Listen to my story, and then decide. Even the guilty are allowed to defend themselves before they are sentenced to death. Listen, and when you have heard all, judge me as you see fit. If, after hearing my tale, you still hate me, then so be it.”
His words unsettled me. A small part of me, buried beneath my rage and grief, recognised the truth in what he said. I had created him. Did I not owe him at least this much? I had always assumed he was the murderer of my brother, but perhaps I needed to hear his story before I condemned him completely.
“Why should I listen to you?” I muttered. “Why remind me of the horrors you have caused?”
He sighed and covered his face with his hands, as though exhausted. “If I am a monster, it is because I was made to be one,” he said quietly. “If I had been treated with kindness, I would not be what I am now. Listen to my story, Frankenstein. I do not ask for forgiveness—only understanding. Come with me, and by the time the sun sets behind these mountains, you will have heard the truth.”
He turned and walked across the ice. For a moment, I hesitated. But then, curiosity and something deeper—something almost like duty—urged me to follow. Silently, I trailed behind him, climbing towards a small hut in the mountains, my heart heavy with fear and dread.
Whatever I was about to hear, I knew one thing: it would change everything.