Awakening of the Yule Cat

Snow. Endless. Silent. The midnight bell bleeds through the

dark— Then the surface breaks. Black, cracked skin bursts

through the white of Surtshellir, glowing fissures pulsing too heavy, too slow.

An arm locks upward, bones grinding like wet marrow on frost. The snow recoils from her.

Her head snaps up— neck breaking in one wrong line. A face split open: two endless gashes

instead of eyes, flesh tearing outward. Her breath is a cold metallic scrape. Knotted fingers

drag through the snow, too many joints clicking into place. A feline shadow

forms beside her— fur swallowing light, a body moving like inhaled darkness. Yellow eyes rip