The smoke started to be snuffed out by the daybreak of the sun. The remnants of the city were barely standing as they once were. A figure cloaked in darkness approached a ruined manor.
He passed through the chopped down doorway. A small frown along his face as he moved. Moving from room to room he searched the house methodically. When he finally found the room he was looking for he stopped.
The sight in front of him was what he had expected. A man, sword in hand lied dead. Face up on the cobblestone floor. His throat sliced open vertically, while his blue eyes were still. His stomach had been cut open and its contents spilling out. Two intruders were dead infront of him.
The silk bedsheets that were once gold were now a rusty copper color. A mixture of blood and other liquids had soaked them through. Laid on top of it all was a woman whose beauty was once unrivaled. Her curly black hair flowed wildly. Her skin almost porcelain in nature. But her face alas... was grotesque.
Her throat had constricted from her howling. Her cheeks puffy from the beatings. Her green eyes stained red from blood. The look of horror had not left her lifeless body even now.
The man stepped on the entrails of her husband and the others to approach her, caring not for the bits of bile his boots had gathered. He was quite careful as he approached her, and gently caressed her face one last time. Tucking her hair beneath her ears and closing her eyes.
He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on her forehead, not troubled with the alien liquids upon it already. "I am sorry I was late." He whispered into her elongated ears. "I may not have been able to stop them, but I will not let them rest for the rest of their lives."
"That is a promise dear blood-sister. A promise I make on my given name. If I am to break this promise, May the gods of new and old strike me down like a wild weasel-dog in the street."
Although he fixed her face, he did not move her. He knows they will send someone who will come back for her head. He glanced around once more looking for something. The room destroyed, all but a single painting. He threw a small ice dart towards it and it melted before contact. "There you are." He whispered. A small grin had replace his frown.
He removed the painting to find a small basket. He grinned as he pulled it close. After confirming its contents he left the manor, then the city, but only after casting one last spell.
Later..
A squad of four men were on their way back to that very manor. Their leader a bald man named Crimson, joked with his subordinates as they approached. "Lyle did you piss yourself when he pulled out his sword. I swear I heard a trickle coming from your position." The other two men laughed along with their leader.
"Crim I didn't think he was going to put up a fight, everyone knows he got crippled in the last war." Lyle said back nervously.
"Then what was there to fear?" Crimson roared laughing louder.
"A cornered Weasel-dog has nothing to lose, plus even as a cripple he's still a sword-saint." Lyle justified to his companions.
"Aye, took my good arm before you could do anything Crim." One of the others said. Raising his recently acquired stubbed arm.
"Your acting like the Queen won't bless you with a new one when we return!" Crims shouted. "Since we've killed the traitor and that Ice witch of a wife he had, we are guaranteed to be rewarded once were back."
"True." The man said while raising his stump. To the laughs of others.
They crossed the manor swiftly. Once inside Crims told Lyle to take her head. Lyle unsheathed his blade and started to hack and saw through the pale neck.
Stumpy looked around as Lyle worked. He noticed the painting had been moved. "Hey Crim? Did you mess with that?"
"With what," he began to say. As he turned to look at the now empty wall, he thought it was peculiar. That was until he heard a thud behind him. He turned back to see a head drop to the floor, but instead of the Ice witch's it was Lyles. "What the f-" another head dropped this time the man who had yet to speak. The room turned cold when the third head rolled at his feet.
Crimson didn't need to think anymore. He set his arms ablaze to combat the cold and started his retreat. He broke walls, floors anything in his way as he left the house. The hairs on his neck stood up as he felt the void was behind him. Just as he was about to cross the front doors threshold. His entire body as well as the entire house turned to Ice. The look of terror now plastered on his face trapped inside.
The ice will never melt.
Somewhere else..
The man with basket in hand, coughed violently. Blood spewed out and he almost dropped what he had retrieved from his Blood-sister. Kneeling over he checked inside once more. Inside the basket contained a small blanket, wrapped around a young Babygirl. She was still sound asleep. Her mother was smart to put her under a sleeping spell so she would not be found the man thought. The baby's curly hair had yet to cover her head entirely. Her hazel eyes were a mix of her fathers and mothers. A small pendant around her neck was being sucked on like a pacifier.
The man gathered himself as he pulled the child close. "Do not worry little one, I will protect you. Let this be the final Blood-Oath, I swear. From today on the Polar Axe is dead. Your Blood-Father is all that remains."