At the edge of the Ironwood Forest, the vanguard of the Aldenar army had hunkered down. The mountainside was a jagged landscape of grey granite and ancient pines, now draped in a thick, suffocating blanket of snow. After days of frantic, bloody skirmishes with the violet-eyed beasts, the front had suddenly fallen into a deathly stillness. The creatures had retreated into the black depths of the forest, leaving the soldiers to huddle around flickering mage-fires, their breath blooming in the air like white ghosts.
Elric stood at the very edge of the encampment, far from the warmth of the central fires. He was stripped of his heavy plate armor, wearing only a dark tunic of boiled leather and thick wolf furs. To any other man, the biting wind would have felt like a thousand needles; to Elric, the cold was merely a background hum.
But tonight, he couldn't feel the familiar clarity the frost usually brought him. He felt... heavy.
