Blood Over Ice (Ben)

 Prompt:  Over ice 

I had never made it to Windhelm while I was alive, and I now find I was not missing much. The stones are cold, the townspeople ignorant and racist, and the snow seems to never stop. What business Valan has here I don’t know the specifics of, only that he had summoned for help, and out of all the ancestors I tend to be the one to answer the most. If anything he doesn’t need help with whatever task brought him to this frozen city, as much as he needs help getting around. The cobbled streets are covered in snow and ice, not the best terrain for a blind person, even if they have some usable vision left. I act as a sighted guide of sorts, leading him through the ancient stone city with its intimidating walls and magnificent palace that once held great kings long ago. Now it holds a traitor and a coward, who sits on that cold stone throne with a heart of ice. To think he ignores the fact there are now splatters of blood over the ever present ice due to a recent string of murders in favor of making war, he would not last two days in Vvardenfell. The inn thankfully is a reprieve from the cold, at least for Valan, as I cannot feel it in my current state. As he sits and eats a well deserved if mildly questionable hot meal I feel myself beginning to slip from this world, though that feeling ceases when the spell is cast again. Having eaten and gotten out of the cold Valan decides to attempt to sleep, or at the very least crawl under the pile of blankets provided. I bid him goodnight and tell him to stay out of trouble, something he never listens to me or his mother about. With my time now quite over in this world I decide to go for a walk through the cold, silent city. Perhaps I will uncover whose blood has spilled over the ice? Or the one responsible? I walk through the graveyard, and the market, past the inn where Valan sleeps soundly, all the while humming a traditional tune to myself in the quiet darkness. Many of the guards pay me no mind, though my presence unsettles a few. Quietly humming I walk by, ignoring them, preferring to look up at the moons shining brightly and the snow falling pilling up over the sheets of ice that cling to the houses and walls. I wander through a residential section, passing under a strange house where I sense things even stranger, and continue until I come to the grey quarter. This slum used to be called the snow quarter, how it has fallen into disrepair saddens me greatly. My, how the mighty have fallen. Continuing to hum I quietly walk down the steps and through the quarter, nodding silently to a young man coming home late from work who notices me and bows respectfully. After that informal greeting he goes inside, leaving only me to continue wandering through the streets with only my thoughts and my song, until my time is up. As I reach the top step leading out of the slum I feel the end of my adventure has come, and with one final breath of crisp icy air, fade away into nothing.