When Niki inspected the night sky, he was appalled and fearful at what he saw. The full moon was no longer a shimmering silver, but instead a sordid crimson red- the color of blood and slaughter. It veiled the hills with a feeling of dread and damnation, casting the shrubs and grasses into a fervent blood sweat as if the very land itself was in a constant state of agonized torment. The Banedown River cut jaggedly through the ground, its festering waters frothing and boiling; its bloody waves snapping like mad beasts at the shore in the moonlight.
"I thought you said he would not be able to control the Djöfulsins Hrogn until next winter?
