1 Chapter 1 - Prologue

A hazy mist descends into a mountainous valley, the sun setting behind the snowy peaks. A large waterfall gushes from the tallest mountain at the end of the valley, forming a deep lake at the bottom. A winding river snakes through the vast expanse of trees towards the horizon.

An oppressing gust of wind brings with it a sea of frost that spreads across the idyllic boreal forest, as it rushes unimpeded towards an unremarkable hole on the side of a jagged mountain; where a delicate flame attempts to withstand the biting cold.

Two small and gruesome hands, covered in wounds and dried blood, shield the fragile flames as another gust of wind threatens to extinguish it. Two of his fingers on his right hand are charred black, while his left hand has a deep gash in the middle of his palm.

The lingering twilight seems to calm the valley as the night begins to creep closer.

No longer needing to shield the flame, the quivering hands start adding twigs and tinder to the fire. From the darkness of the cave all that can be seen is a pair of lifeless eyes staring blankly at the fire.

Several minutes pass in the damp cave as the hands work shakingly to try and strengthen the fire.

However, despite being close to the flame the already pale hands seem to only get paler. crystals of frost being forming on the stiff fingers, evidence of the plummeting temperature.

The figure lets out a weak sigh, his breathing becomes slow and shallow. he feels his eyelids become increasingly heavy. the fire had yet to dry the damp wood making it just as meek as when he had started.

Watching the sporadic flickering of the flame his eyes became even more despondent as they gently began to close. Almost as if they were linked, the fire too begins to wane.

Another chilling breeze envelopes the cave with ruthless aggression, snuffing out the fire and nearly scattering the embers.

The eyes that were nearly closed shot open with panic, the sudden cold shocking him awake. When he noticed the state of the fire his hollowed eyes lit up with burning anger and indignation. He had nearly made a tragic mistake, if he had truly fallen asleep he would have never woken up again.

Worst of all the fire that he had painstakingly tried to nurture had gone out due to his negligence and he was out of options.

He steeled his heart and grabbed the remaining firewood, throwing it onto the dying embers. Using his teeth he decisively rips off a scab on his left thumb, as blood leaked out he started drawing a symbol on his right palm.

Once the symbol was finished it began to glow and emit faint light, the frost on his hand started to melt. he took a deep breath, stood up, and aimed his palm at the firewood using his left hand as a brace for his arm.

A faint spark flashed through his eyes, this was a complete gamble, if it failed he would no doubt freeze to death and even if he succeeded there was still a chance he would use too much energy causing his whole arm to be destroyed.

He closed his eyes and with a hushed whisper he tried to send a desperate prayer. As towards who it's for or what he should say, He was unsure. Any stroke of luck or misfortune, could mean the difference between seeing a new tomorrow or dying a bitter nameless death.

All that managed to escape his lips was a faint, - "Please work"

With a flash of blinding light from the center of his palm, the symbol condensed into a golf ball sized orb of orange and red fire. The fireball shot out towards the center of the firewood bundle.

However, the second it detached from his hand the orb began to slow down and break apart in the air. Seeing the ball losing control the figure panicked. The orb was on the verge of dispersing and it was taking all he had to keep his eyes open. His heartbeat began thundering in his ears as his vision dimmed.

Before he could even think, he had jumped forward and caught the ball with his right hand. Using the last of his energy he slammed the ball of fire into the center of the fire wood.

Almost instantly the entire bundle burst into a crackling inferno, with his hand at the very center.

Recoiling from the pain, he flung his hand away and pressed it onto the cold damp cave walls. When the blistered red skin touched the frost on the wall, his felt the pain be numbed by the extreme cold.

The small cave was now fully illuminated by the roaring fire. Standing in front of the fire was a pale faced youth no older than twelve or thirteen, he was wearing tattered clothing some of it exposing the numerous wounds on his sickly flesh.

He had messy hair filled with dirt and grime. His face was abcenly pale with dark circles under his eyes, he clearly hadn't slept in a long time. His parched and cracked lips had turned a purplish-blue color.

Wisps of smoke were coming out of his now burnt palm as the smell of burnt flesh filled the cave. He could only curse his terrible luck, even Lady Luck seemed to want him dead.

His eyes fluttered before finally closing, his whole body fell to the ground with a thud next to the open fire.

As the valley became darker and the bright moon took its place among the stars. all sorts of creatures and beasts roared and clamored throughout, even ghastly wailing could be heard among the symphonies of the night. yet, the youth stayed unperturbed in a deep restless sleep. fragmented memories and foggy images played out inside his dreams.