Oh, frozen treachery, how ironic is it that we must wallow and wail for hope, but there is none left to hear our cries. Nothing left for us. Nothing remains but an endless sea of ice, the desolate landscape only broken by the souls attempting to break free from their binds of ice. But there is no escape For we are what was spited. We are what was forgotten. We are what was left alive. We only wish we could have died trying.
A book is frozen upon a pedestal, a knuckle blast freeing it from its own small torment. The pedestal a skeleton of ice and bones. You read inside. “There are those desperate here, with those sparks of hope in this cold frozen hell. We are left to grovel, to do nothing, but let that spark die… a cold despair to a death of all hope. I’ve lost brothers, brothers of tragedy, who like me deserve no light, but that cry for more remains unrelentless. My hope burns, a napalm in the ice, leaving me frost burnt and weak. I witness to the dead eyes of the lord, for no loving living thing would wish anyone here. We are left, embers of lost hope, to be snuffed away. To be left alive, die trying… to be the last light in this cold dark world.” You put it back, watching the small blue flame in the skull desperately stay alight, hanging on yet wanting release. It’s a cruel love for eternity.
This really does sound like something hakita would put in the game and everyone would enjoy the fuck out of it. If i played ultrakill more often i would probably add this to the cybergrind playlist
