Wind tore through the mountain, the blizzard was very strong, carrying snow in all directions, giving a sensation that there was nothing beyond the wall of snow. Shapes emerged; they had the sensation of coldness stuck in their skin.
They were advancing with deliberate effort. Snow accumulated along cloaks and armor, while the cold got through fabric, metal, and skin, settling into muscle and bone. Breathing was difficult, and as they exhaled, the warm air was scattered by the wind. And their fingers were numb.
One of the figures slowed and turned his head, looking at the white surge behind him. The wind struck his face directly.
A memory surfaced.
Stone beneath his feet was trembling, and the surroundings were in fire. Rows of armored figures standing in formation with a expression of disdain. Orders were shouted, and Steel was drawn. Blades were falling in sequence. Bodies collapsing where they stood. Blood spreading across pale stone, while some were screaming and running from death, only to be silenced abruptly.
The memory receded as abruptly as it had come.
The blizzard reclaimed everything, folding white back over thought and sensation. The figures continued forward with steady resolve, their formation tightening instinctively as the wind intensified.
Ahead, the mountains rose and fell beneath the storm, their paths were erased as quickly as they formed.