He was a warrior from the Southern Plains, a man of fire and blood, captured during the solstice raid. They called him "Top," a name earned for his rank and his unyielding nature. Even now, stripped and bound spread-eagle to the iron beams, his muscles bulged with the effort to break free. Steam rose from his skin, a valiant, futile defiance against the supernatural chill emanating from the Corrupted Priestess.
Chloe climbed the dais, her bare feet leaving no prints in the frost that coated the stone. She approached the sacrificial offering bound to the X-shaped frame at the center of the altar. freeze 23 12 29 chloe temple corrupted priest x top
She raised her hands. The corruption inside her flared, visible as a violet bruise under her eyes. The command word hung in the air, heavy and absolute. He was a warrior from the Southern Plains,
The air crystallized instantly. The breath of the acolytes, frozen in their throats, turned into shards of ice that pierced their lungs. They stood like statues in the candlelight, paralyzed by the unnatural cold. The candles did not flicker; the flames themselves froze in mid-dance, suspended in time. Steam rose from his skin, a valiant, futile
"You fight the winter," Chloe observed, tracing a fingernail, now black as onyx, down his heaving chest. Where she touched, frost bloomed instantly, spreading like a spiderweb over his fevered skin. "But the 29th is the end, my dear. The year dies. And you are the fuel."
Top gritted his teeth, a growl rumbling in his throat. "Your god is a lie, Priestess. The sun returns."