Frosthold Monsters

Hadrik Wyrmchill - The Berserker

Drown your flames in snow and bare your necks. The Glass Crown keeps what burns.

Pile warm. Pile metal. Kneel. Do this, and Gorvak does not break you.

Shhh—hear the lock breathe? Now make it stop.

Torches down. Knees in the snow. When the collar rattles, you crawl—or you bleed.

Lay down your steel and your heat. Crawl. The ice will remember your shape.

When the hardpack sings and the snow throws sparks, it’s not thunder—it’s her.

When the sun drops and the snow turns blue, he is already behind you.

Snuff your torches. If she sees the flame, she’ll call the storm—and you’ll never see each other again.

When the lead goes still and the birds stop calling, she is already under the ice.

The wind goes quiet when she decides to move. Then the earth remembers it has bones.

His oath smells of cedar and snow; his rage, of copper and storm.

Where dawn gilds the ice, a queen of talon and beak keeps court.