It starts ever so slowly
the forbidding feeling of a slow descent into a cavern painted in the midnight moonlight.

Icy fingers clip along your throat coaxing out the warm air from lungs defying the still silent night around them.

The loudest silence comes in a rage of pure defiled white.

A lone spark simmers out from a long barren heart, the frost snakes up bare limbs twisting like fine jewelry along your arms, and...