𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 || Cregan Stark

11 | Crimson Snow

CHAPTER ELEVEN
C R I M S O N S N O W

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The chilled air fills her insides like a matted blanket, clinging to every sinew and tendon. Pieces of snow have collected in her hair, only to melt beneath the winter sun, wettening her flushed skin.

Viserra stumbles through the snow, her legs losing their strength beneath her.

They weigh of nothing. They weigh of everything.

She's looking for a way out, but the path seems to stretch on forever. Frost weighs down the branches under her feet, tugging on her prickled skin like snares coiling for her blood.

She cannot make out what surrounds her, and the shadows cast upon her from the trees, flash with a distinguishable serenity that does not match her dread. Her steps quicken, in a desperate attempt.

She is dying. She must be.

The pain in her chest aches so immensely it hurts to breathe. As though part of her flesh has been torn from her, leaving her barren and cold.

She tears the glove from her hand and presses her frozen palm to her mouth, stifling the sob building in her throat.

The taste of salt and sulphur stings her lips, bitter and raw and loathsome. She cannot force the air to surpass her. She cannot stop the poisonous grief inside her from spreading.

The thoughts swirl in her head, a merciless litany that drowns out everything else

Meanwhile, distant voices echo behind her, but Viserra cannot decipher any words through the pounding in her ears.

She stumbles again, catching herself on a low-hanging branch that tears at her skin, splintering against her palm.

She clenches her jaw, biting down hard. Soon the taste of copper floods her senses.

The noises behind her continue. They are closer now, shouting her name with growing urgency.

Karnax cries and wails too. His distant echo feels like a second heartbeat to her own, protruding into her flesh.

Perhaps he shares her loss. Perhaps he mourns too.

Her vision blurs, the white expanse of snow around her seeming to dissolve into a void of colourless nothingness. She cannot see.

It is all just forest, surrounding her, trapping her.

She stays still, her knees buried deep in the snow.

Viserra's cloak settles like a crimson river around her.

She lifts her fingers and displays them before herself, flushed and torn by the branches. Her hands shake when she leans them against the snow, allowing the cool to seep into the cuts in her skin. She hisses at the pain.

She doesn't look up as the sound of footsteps draws closer, her gaze locked on the crimson stains blooming in the snow beneath. She stares at the blood in tormenting awe.

"Viserra."

The voice falls on deaf ears. A melancholy melody, lost in a violent storm.

"Viserra, listen—"

Her heavy breaths pour vapour into the air. The cold hitches, like small needles biting into her boiling skin. Her eyes widen. Her lungs inflame.

"Listen to me."

Two firm hands settle around her face. Acrid tears fill her eyes and the vision before her blurries. Amidst the ache and horror, there are two eyes— inhaling her, taking her in. Making her bare and unwhole with the world.