As Icicles Fall

Old prompt inspired by the lyrics of Ne Obliviscaris’ song “As Icicles Fall”

She remembers the words of her dying mother, starry matter strewn across the void. The glimmering white like particles of ice, crushed in a fist and scattered. The icicles as they fall remind her of these things–of the blank space from whence she and all the gods had come.

Huna stepped barefoot through the snow, immune to the cold but wishing she felt it. The fields of white reminded her of her mother, of the stag, of the ancient sword grey and dull, shedding blood from its edge like tears. The witch walked onward and her thoughts forged a sword and her heartbeat beat out a savage warcry, although her face remained still.

The broken church lifted its sundered spires to the slate-grey sky and the cracks fulgurating down their lengths reminded her of lightning. That flash, star-bright, that erupted into the void space and sent her spinning. The pulse of nature felt muffled, here, beneath the eternal layer of snow–but she heard it, felt it in the soles of her feet, and longed to exhume it.

But there lurked a beauty in the church’s cold edifice, and Huna lay her hand against it and then her other, breathing in its years. Each dusty corner was both a symphony and a silence, and the witch listened with her mind drifting somewhere between waking and sleeping. Gathering her robes around her, she stepped within the broken cathedral.

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