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Weekly Contest #281
Death was cold. Death was still. Death left rot in the air and a chill in anyone’s veins. That was why the Congregation of Tenebrous Warlocks chose Dies Nivalis, the coldest day of the year, to present the newest Congregation inductees to the horde. “It’s fitting. Nothing says ‘Death’ more than the sub-zero temperatures of Dies Nivalis,” Maman had said to Odette that morning as she helped tame her hair for the ceremony. Odette’s inherited curls were particularly unruly, as if they’d sensed her unease and balled up into a rat’s ne...
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