Chapter 1
- Xander Jade
- Apr 19
- 11 min read
Erik Bjornsson’s first breath was a clawed thing, scraping up the back of his throat like a hand full of gravel. The air stank of rust and old blood. He jerked upright, ears ringing, heart jackhammering in his chest. The world crashed back in: blackness, bitter cold, the weight of something dead and heavy mummifying his legs. Ice clattered down, pelting his scalp, sliding in greasy clumps off his cheek and beard. He hacked up a gobbet of red-tinged phlegm and spat it on the cave floor, where it steamed obscenely before freezing over.
