Kinslayer
A frigid, white wasteland of snow and static.
Cora squinted, as though she could make out the shapes of mountains beyond the blistering storm. Her gaze fell to her feet to find that they too, were partially obscured by the blizzard.
The wind whipped around her, but its chill was superficial. It didn't sink into her bones, it didn't turn her lips blue and slow her breathing, it didn't embrace her into an icy near-death as it once had.
But, the wind still howled. The storm still churned. The snow still blotted out everything that wasn't her, and…
Hm?
His presence struck, unsettling in how visceral and alive it felt against such a stagnant backdrop. Her pulse stuttered before thundering in her ears, and she spun on her heel, voice carrying sharp and clear through the tempest:
"Have you not done enough?"
Voldran Molf
