Randolf's cheek was pressed flat against the cold hard ground. It was much colder than one'd expect, for perhaps it just felt that way for him.
He could feel the warmth of his own blood pooling under his chest as he tried to move his legs but couldn't do anything. They just didn't respond.
He tried to push himself up but his arms wouldn't obey him either. A terrible and paralyzing numbness was spreading throughout his body, it was a pain he'd never felt before.
The sounds of the fight, of Luna's sword and the screams of his men, all of it seemed to just fade away in the background.
They became a distant and muffled roar as if his entire world was narrowing down. It was shrinking down to this single small spot with him lying in his own blood.
It was just him and the dark figure standing over him.
He was going to die here. On this cold and hard ground.
