>>6185590The next thing you know, you feel your back against a wall of ice. You can't remember when you were removed from the water, but opening your eyes, you are on the surface, by the great glacier. You look around; bodies are frozen in ice. Some are at peace, but you see the many. Deep within the ice, you see shadows, of dozens, hundreds, thousands of bodies.
Not bodies.
People.
Still conscious.
You turn around, and behind you, several feet into the ice, from the corner of the eye, you spy that boy. Interred in this prison, his face forever locked in lament. With one eye open, he will see you. You will feel his judgment upon your back. A weight heavier than this mountain of ice.
And you will carry it forever.
A hand presses its fingers upon your chest, and pushes you into the ice wall.
You jolt forward, trying to fight it, but the frost shoots around you. It starts with your lower back, molding around your waist and down your legs. Your attempt to pry yourself free with one hand only enables it to be encased before the rest of the arm. You reach out to grab at whatever you can in front of you. Nothing is in reach.
You are frozen there, reaching out in denial.
And as you are frozen, you are not asleep. You are not at peace. Your heart wishes to beat, but it is claimed by the frost, clutched in cold despite its burning frenzy. Your eyes are locked in place, open, forward, unable to so much as shift around as the lids are frozen open and the layer of moisture across the surface of the eyeball petrifies. The ice has crawled up your nose, into your lungs, down your stomach. Soon, every possible means with which you could even twitch has been restrained.
There is no struggle. You are perfectly buried in ice, unable to budge, blink, or scream.
Behind you, beneath you, above you, are Finns. Every Finn who has ever died here, who did not escape by pledging their soul to Odin and fleeing, who were not gone with the rapture, who had the misfortune of being born here and unable to escape. Here, there are rapists and murderers millenia old, sharing the same fate as little ones who died in the cold. Here, are your victims, by your hand and by your command alike.
In other faiths, they believed their sinners would face fires in hell. You wish you could. So you can turn around and face them. So you could scream. So you could be afforded a struggle.
But this is not for you.
Your Gods have laid this out for you. And for all others.
And you will be like this.
<span class="mu-s">Forever.
Forever, the eyes on at the back of your head.
Forever, the guilt of regret.
Forever, the emptiness of unfulfilled redemption.
Forever, the dreams of life.
Forever, the shackles of ice.
<span class="mu-i">Forever.</span></span>
