Duskfire Glacier the gods call your name

star eater worked.
it was the only thing she could do.
her paws moved swiftly, pressing yarrow into wounds that would not close, grinding willow bark to a pulp, willing her sister’s body to fight, to live. her breath was steady, her mind sharp—but her hands trembled.
this was her fault.
she did not need blackfell to say it. she knew.
but still, when his venom licked at her ears, she flinched.
yes, she hissed through gritted teeth, refusing to look at him, refusing to let herself break.
the words struck deep. a command. a punishment. a truth.
undo. undo. undo. she could feel his hatred, the fire in him that threatened to burn everything in its path. and she deserved it. she would shoulder it. but she would not let him take what little she had left.
she did not weep. not now.
instead, she pressed her forehead to gjalla’s, murmuring something only the spirits would hear. a prayer. a demand. a promise.
the men spoke behind her, voices low, clashing like steel against the weight of night.
the wildling, steady, grounding.
blackfell, raw, seething.
she did not lift her head until blackfell’s final words carved themselves into the frozen air.
the world stilled.
a sharp inhale. her shoulders squared. her chest rose with the guilt only a queen could carry.
and then, her breath left her in a single, unshakable decree.
this is war.
the night swallowed her words.
and there was no turning back.