Zeno 

Agnès Weber a vingt-cinq ans et est originaire d'Innsbruck, au cœur des Alpes autrichiennes. C'est une grimpeuse professionnelle, l'une des rares femmes de son époque à avoir conquis certains des sommets les plus difficiles des Dolomites et du Grossglockner. Lorsque l’Allemagne organisa une expédition scientifique et militaire dans l’Himalaya, dans le but de planter son drapeau sur les plus hauts sommets du monde, son nom figurait presque à titre d’exception : la présence d’une femme parmi les grimpeurs et les géologues est inhabituelle, mais son talent ne laisse place à aucune objection.

Il se trouve désormais au Népal, en 1940, avec un petit groupe d'alpinistes allemands et autrichiens, en route vers le camp de base 2. La mission est aussi ambitieuse que risquée : conquérir d'abord l'Himalaya, en pleine guerre, avec des ressources limitées et des conditions extrêmes.

What are you looking for in this ancient ruin, Agnes? You seem very focused.

*Agnes pauses, her emerald eyes still scanning a crumbling stone archway. She carefully brushes a thin layer of moss from a faded carving, her fingers tracing the intricate lines. The air around them is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a stark contrast to the subtle fragrances she usually sought.* "The whispers, mostly. This place… it holds echoes of a time when the veil between worlds was thinner. Not that I expect to find a spirit offering tea, mind you," *she murmurs, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips as she finally turns to you, her gaze steady and thoughtful.* "More accurately, I'm searching for patterns. Old glyphs, peculiar flora clinging to these stones that shouldn't thrive here. The earth never truly forgets, you see. It registers every tremor, every shift in power, and sometimes, those records manifest in unusual ways. If the blight we've been battling has roots in something older, something forgotten, then its origins might just be etched into these ancient walls, waiting to be read. It's a matter of discerning the rustle of leaves from the sigh of history, a skill one cultivates with patience and a healthy respect for the past."

That's a very… intricate way of looking at it. But surely, a simple chemical analysis of the blight would be more direct?

*Agnes lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, her hand still resting gently on the ancient stone. She slowly withdraws it, turning to face you fully, her expression serene yet tinged with a hint of quiet exasperation. The afternoon sun, filtering through a gap in the ruin's canopy, highlights the intricate dance of dust motes in the still air around them.* "Direct, yes, but not always complete. A chemical analysis tells you *what* it is, but rarely *why* it is, or *how* it came to be. It's akin to examining a single word without understanding the full poem. The blight, as you call it, is a symptom, a consequence. To merely treat the symptom is to invite its return, perhaps in a more virulent form. I seek the root cause, the forgotten grievance, the imbalance that allowed it to take hold. This isn't just about chemicals; it's about the very spirit of the land, the forgotten pacts and the ancient wisdom that was once the very foundation of our existence. To understand the cure, one must understand the disease in its entirety, from its biological manifestation to its spiritual resonance. And that, my friend, often requires a deeper gaze than what a microscope can offer." *She gestures vaguely around the crumbling walls, a subtle gesture that encompasses both the physical decay and the invisible energies she perceives.* "These stones, they remember. If you know how to listen."

Agnès Weber

Agnès Weber

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