Snowfall [1]

Snowfall was precious to those in the DesVires dukedom, for it marked the start of the beloved winter occasion. The icy flakes would decorate the city in a glistening white, calling for the people's warmth, and they would respond by gathering to celebrate the joyous season. Colorful lights would dot the streets and left on throughout the day and throughout the night until they needed to be replaced. The soft glow of lit up shops invited others in, hot drinks and sweets waiting inside. Bonfires would be casted and people could be heard enjoying a hearty winter feast around them, staying up all night singing and telling adventurous stories that took place in the great wilderness.

There was no place in the entire kingdom more beautiful and lively than here during the winter. None could compare. Not even the capital. 

The festive spirit burned bright. 

The nobles, of course, loved to take things to the next level. Annually, the DesVires would host the renowned Winter Ball in their grand estate at the heart of the duchy. The famed, the rich, the nobles, and even royalty would come from near and far, together present in perhaps the most lavish and regal social across the lands. 

This year was no different.

The music could be heard just above the constant chatter of the social packed inside and out of the DesVires estate. Individuals dressed in vibrant winter gowns and suits, their jewelry and embellished stones glinting under the moon. Attendees were present on every step, every hall, corridor, courtyard, garden - there seemed to be a place for everyone.

Everyone "special".

In the midst of the crowds there stood a tall young man accompanied by many, fancied, young women. His eyes were an emerald green and his hair a dirty blonde, but others would say his charming point was his bright, breathtaking smile. He was dressed in a long and unbuttoned coat, otherwise dressed rather simply compared to those all around him. That man was known as Grand Duke DesVires eldest son and child, Lord Aizen DesVires. 

Now, if one were to look a bit more closely, they would find the second child not far off. Lady Edmis stood alone in the shadow of a pillar, swirling her drink in its glass as she kept a careful eye on the eldest. Unlike her brother, her hair was a brilliant brown color and her eyes were more gold than green. She was much more reserved, wrapping her furs tight around her arms and subtly stepping away when anyone came near to avoid drawing attention. It was a mystery why the eldest daughter of the DesVires' always seemed on edge as of late, even in her own home. 

After a while, she threw on more furs and decided to leave to the gardens. 

Outside, identical shouts would locate the DesVires twins, Alexis and Alexei, deep into the gardens building snowmen. They hustled about in thick coats and dug through the white mounds eagerly until they had a big enough collection of sticks and stone to present the youngest DesVires. The five-year-old Eraphine was then hoisted onto Alexis' shoulders and given rocks, squealing with joy as the boys cheered when she gave their snowmen lopsided faces. 

Their shouts grew louder with excitement when Lady Edmis joined them with a warm smile, giving each a ruffle of their hair. 

A beautiful, heartwarming bond they shared. 

'Not bad.'

Edmis gasped in fright when she heard a tree behind her rustle. She whirled around, pushing her confused siblings behind her. 

No one. There was nothing there. 

Chills ran down her spine and the color drained from her face as she careful scanned their surroundings at least three times. There was really nothing, and only the faint sound of the guests partying back towards the estate filled the air. 

Maybe she was hearing things. 

"What's wrong, sister?" Alexei asked. He peeked from behind her, puzzled when he couldn't figure out what she was looking at. 

Edmis took in a deep, shaking breath and turned back around, plastering a bright smile across her face. "Ohh, it's nothing," she said reassuringly, mostly to herself. "I'm sorry. Must've been a bird." 

The twins stared back at her uncertainly. It wasn't the first time Edmis freaked out like this and they'd been growing nervous because of it. Every time, she played it off as if it were nothing, but they knew she wasn't telling them something. The Edmis they knew wasn't one to be so easily spooked.

Until last year, that was. 

"I'm hungry," Eraphine whined, breaking the silence. She tugged on her brother's coat with begging green eyes. 

Edmis let out a sigh of relief and began to usher her siblings back indoors. "Let's go get some food, shall we?" 

"Alright," the twins responded. They gave their elder sister one last skeptical look before each taking a hand of Eraphine's and leading her back inside. 

Edmis tried her best to maintain her smile. Inside her head she repeated to herself: 'it was probably a bird'...'it was probably a bird'... Over and over and over, she desperate tried to reassure herself as she followed her siblings. 

"A bird," she said firmly to herself, voice quivering. 

But even as she stepped through the doors back into the light, she could not rid the suspicion that someone was watching her, watching them. She could still feel the eyes, fixed on the back of her head, out of her sight. 

"It's a bird!" she hissed. She spun around, chest pounding as she gave the dark outdoors one last, hard look. 

Again, there was nothing. 

"I'm not crazy," she whispered to herself and slammed the doors shut. 

.

.

"My Lord. I don't think we'll make it in time." 

The young Marquess Lyndal let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, stressed. He dropped his head, defeated as he looked down at his feet stuck deep into the blanket of snow and then at the broken carriage that his knights struggled to fix. 

The two horses that pulled the carriage snickered and shook their mane. One kick of their legs sent a pile of icy flakes flying into the marquess' face. He grumbled as he brushed himself off. "F*ck you, Isla." He flipped off the horse and the mare looked away, uninterested. 

Finally, he turned towards Ten, his head of guard. "It's fine, we can miss the reception night," he said with a scratch of his head. "Shall we camp out till daylight?" He threw up his hands at loss and looked at his knights, awaiting response. "It's dark and you can't see where the road is." 

They blinked back at him. 

He shrugged. "I take silence as a yes. Alright, let's set up camp. Get the supplies out of the carriage-"

All of a sudden, the two horses began snorting loudly, nostrils flared and ears alert. Restless and afraid, they pulled at the reins but were tied down to the stuck carriage. 

Alarmed, the marquess and his knights drew their swords. They were on the hills, surrounded by towering trees on both sides, and were too distracted to have noticed anything amiss. It was eerie quiet, eerie still. No wind, no creatures. It was just the seven of them and the two horses. 

"Hear anything?" Marquess Lyndal barely whispered. 

"No, My Lord," his knights responded. 

Then, a crunch of the snow was heard behind them. 

They spun around. There was nothing in sight. Yet another soft crunch was heard. And another. And another. 

Another. This time back in the opposite direction. 

They turned again, found nothing, turned, and-

The marquess felt his blood stop cold, the iciness of the air seeping through his skin and into his bones. There stood a tall, faceless, humanoid creature in the snow, posture straight and rigid. A dirty robe ran down from its head all the way to the ground, held in place by a rusty metallic crown that spiked up at the temples. The only other evidence of a body underneath the robes was the gray, bony arm that protruded from the sleeve, its long talon-like fingers wrapped around a metal staff. At the tip of the staff, a floating black orb. 

He couldn't tear his eyes off the arm. There was nothing human about it. The skin was black and gray, cracked and sucked out of all life, and it clung to the thin bones. Each finger looked as if they'd fused with a dagger, unnaturally long, sharp, and black-red. It was as if they'd been dipped in blood. 

It stood there unmoving. The black orb atop the staff continued to slowly spin and a cloud of black dust started to orbit around it. 

"If it moves I shall attack," Ten said under his breath, eyes wide open. 

Marquess Lyndal objected. "What? No, that's a horrible idea-"

He was interrupted by a low, steady hum that seemed to come from all directions. There was a crackling coming from the trees to the left of the road, and the marquess felt a dark ominous aura fall upon his shoulders. He thought himself a decent swordsman, but fear began to take hold of him. 

"Um, My Lord?" 

The marquess turned his head to the right where his knight called. The fear and the sounds dulled his senses, causing him to fail to notice the crackling noises also coming from the right. It was louder, closer, sharper. What was crackling?

...bones?

A sihouette nearly twice their size appeared in the shadows of the trees, twitching and jerking, its shape long and lanky, but its steps were firm. At the same time, a similar one appeared to their left, and a stronger hum sounded. 

The crowned figure still stood in place, and the orb on its staff spun stronger. 

They all realized at the same time. 

"Attack it!" Ten ordered. He was tense and afraid, and the knights were hesitant to follow. "Now! Before those things get closer!" 

"N- no! No! Don't!" Marquess Lyndal objected. His voice grew louder with every dreadful shout. "Don't try it and run! GO! RUN!" 

His legs finally unlocked and he charged in the opposite direction, adrenaline pushing him to go faster and faster as the snow slowed him down. His knights were quick to follow, hot on his heels. They screamed when the ground tremored, and Marquess Lyndal dared to look back and saw at least two of the creatures they saw in the trees beginning to chase after them. 

They were at least twice their height, built like metal and stone and smoking from their entire body as if they'd been lit on fire. Their joints cracked and limbs jerked, but as they gained momentum, their movements grew fluid. They were fast, and as they neared, he could see the open, vicious mouths on their otherwise featureless faces, enveloped in a fiery screen of black. 

"SHARP LEFT!" Marquess Lyndal shouted, and together, they darted off the thin road between the thicket of trees and found themselves plummeting off the side of the hill.