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A longship cut through ice floats and dark waves.   "We're lucky it's a clear night," the old captain said as he put a rough hand on Cain's bare shoulder, "Look." The horizon was aglow with city light, and only the brightest stars shone anymore, with two half-moons. "That light there! The one reaching far into the sky. It's from the old citadel."   "I thought Redstone would be more… red," Cain mused. The lights were all the white and blue work of magic, which, reflecting off the metropolis's buildings and roads, gave the city a soft pink halo. He took a deep breath and visualized, as he breathed out; warmth spreading outward from a fire in his center. His robes were soaked from the splashing waves and steam rose from his wet, exposed skin. The captain had icicles in his beard and many layers of fur and wool wrapped around him.   "It shows red under the sun, and even the river that runs through it is red every few hundred years they say."

A somewhat bearable snippet of my NaNoWriMo project.