Prolouge

The dead has started breathing, the burning sensation of loss echoes through me. Each step that I take to find my dear brother draws out bits of my soul, chomps down my every friend or foe.

Time has become my rival, the cold has become my ally and blood has become my oxygen.

The need to find my brother takes me to places I swore to never be in.

I travel down a path in a blindfold.

I could trip down the stairs any moment yet I take steps, steps to the place where the dead is rising.