The Basilisk’s Creed: Interlude

I can’t move.

I can’t speak.

And I can barely breathe.

My chest feels like it’s on fire, burning with excruciating pain as impossibly frigid air struggles to make its way in and out of my lungs.

My lips tremble uncontrollably, prickled with pain and an encroaching numbness, my teeth chattering viciously.

It’s cold.

So cold.

A terrible blanket of white completely surrounds me.

Flurries swirl in my face, masses of snowflakes falling onto my static body, landing on my eyes, their frigidness seeping into my skin. I lay flat on my back with my face to the immaculate, foggy sky, seeing absolutely nothing but the whiteness that mercilessly engulfs me.

Snow.