Sublackusven

It was a cold night in Windhelm. The sort that froze a drunkards' mead as soon as he stepped outside from whichever tavern he chose to stumble out of. The snowflakes were stark in contrast to the dark sky above making it appear as if they were fallen stars. The snow fell silently as Iera sat on the frozen stone with a raging inferno heating her back. She hardly noticed as a guard came running up to her, the terror was apparent in his eyes. She guessed it was the blood that covered her from head to toe, strikingly dark. It had been a normal night, her mother quietly knitting by the fire, her father cooking and singing an old lullaby of his a