Crystals of snow bled into a dark scarlet, heaving breaths drifting on the frigid winds, Albedo had finally met his match; as did you.

He held the handle of his sword loosely, his body giving out from both the cold and physical trauma. He leans over slightly but keeps his stance firm. Albedo brought his sword up, which dripped with the familiar red of blood he had grown to tolerate.

The blood lining the snow.. it wasn't just yours.

He was bleeding.

He didn't know he could bleed.