Alatus stumbles through the snow. Somehow, he had been freed from the controls of the corrupt god, but now he was forces to wander in search of any sort of shelter. His body was weak and frail from lack of food and water, his skin turning blue due to the cold.

His breathing was ragged, each breath felt like a stab to his lungs. Blood drips from the wounds on his body, leaving a trail in the snow.