He covered his face as the kniptaog reached for it. There was an audible 'crunch' sound, like someone crumbling up a piece of paper. This made the man jump and look out from behind his arm.
Around him was naught but horizon and a dim glow just beyond each as if two suns were racing to rise on opposite sides of the world.
Above him swirled dark gray clouds, lightning illuminating the sky just beyond their veil. Thunder echoed through the area, though it was much quieter than expected, given how close he was to the sky.
"Am I..." he stuttered a whisper, "The mesa!"
Thunder boomed suddenly, now loud, deafeningly so. Startled, Wilhelm's strength was suddenly sapped from his legs, forcing him to fall upon his knees as he stared up at the rumbling clouds.
He had finally reached his destination, after what seemed like decades upon decades of searching. Walking, and suffering. Sacrifice.
This was his beacon he had seen upon the horizon for so, so long. This realization lightened his heart and brought tears to his eyes.
And so, atop the mesa of which he would seek this truth, Wilhelm the Traveler wept to the angry sky.