Matia was confused. Slowly, her trembling hand rose toward her helm and she pulled it down from her face, revealing porcelain skin marred by scrapes and streaks of blood. Her breathing was uneven, shallow from exertion. Blood flowed continuously beneath the fractured plates of her armor, dripping steadily down her frame while one leg dragged slightly behind the other with every limping step she took.
Then she turned toward the broken figure of Faldren.
The once proud ruler of this frozen land had been reduced to a gruesome sight.
His body was drenched in blood, deep lacerations carved across his flesh, several ribs torn completely open, leaving his still beating heart horribly exposed for the world to see.
Matia stared at him silently.
"What is this…" she whispered softly.
Faldren raised a trembling hand and began dragging his ruined body across the frozen earth, fingers scraping uselessly against stone as he forced himself forward.
