Christian Montero

Fimbulwinter

“Brother it is time to go.” Jor said with his eyes out the window. Thunder rolls in the distance, getting louder with each crack. A young man sits opposite Jor, his attention affixed to the bloody sword in his hand, and the dead body at his feet. His ears are ringing, breath heavy and visible. The man says, “He was just trying to survive…and…I killed him.” Jor’s voice falters in response, “Fen….”