The shaman washed the crimson from his hands. He glanced at the girl chained to the table, his eyes sparkling with the satisfaction of a task quickly completed.
Dagfinn, could hear the words screaming through her smashed lips.
‘Abbarane, is dead.’
His mind whirled with the new possibilities.
The witch would never interfere again, nor would her chosen successor. He turned back to the girl, a long blade in his hand.
A golden halo sparkled around his prisoner.
“A last present for my beautiful daughter, Ula.”
As the talons of the eagle ripped his face apart, Dagfinn couldn’t even scream.
The first of winter’s snow danced and swirled into the valley on a soft breeze. Melkin watched as the white powder settled on his boots. He pulled his cloak closer and spat on the ground. His hatred for this place and its inhabitants grew with each cold breath he took.
He smiled as he watched the unsuspecting hoard of townspeople move into the valley. Killing his sister, the queen, was supposed to be his glory and these brainless pigs had ruined it all.
He turned and looked at the being closest to him. “Kill them all, Deadenfall.”
My cloak swirled about my shoulders. An icy wind burned my cheeks, forcing a deep choke of air from my lungs. I lost everything. No one survived. With no other choice, I abandoned the only home I knew. Snow-capped valleys filled with orcs await me. Wraiths who live in the wood seek to steal my soul. But I do not fear the monsters ahead. I fear the fear. I fear the rage roiling inside.
Have I the strength to go on? Have I the strength to survive?