Draw of the Cards

Prologue: Copper

"Stay low, stay quiet, keep it simple.

Don't expect too much, enjoy what you have."

================================================================================

Snow. He was surrounded by snow. It was to be expected since it was smack dab in the middle of winter right now in the kingdom of Atlas. Snow was not a strange thing. Snow was a normal sight. It used to be a symbol of fun.

But not anymore.

Not when the snow was no longer white. Not when the pure snow had been blotted with crimson liquid.

That's why he was running. Running away from it all. Running away from his fear. From his pain. From the never-ending nightmare. He couldn't feel his arms. He couldn't feel his legs. He could hardly even breathe.

But he kept running. That was the only choice he had.

His father was dead. His mother was dead. His sister was dead. Everyone in the entire village was dead. The entire town was burning, and the fire quickly spread to the forest. Everything was glowing red, whether from blood or fire. With so much death and destruction, there was only one constant factor you could account for.

Grimm.

Grimm were everywhere. It was a miracle they hadn't seen him yet, but that won't be for long. He could tell. His heart was beating out of his chest, and the only thing he could feel was his own terror clenching his entire being. He was going to die. From the Grimm, or the monsters who purged his home from the map.

That was a lesson he had just learned. Grimm aren't the only monsters that exist in the world.

Why did this even happen? Did they do something wrong? Why wasn't anyone coming to save them? Why had they all been forsaken?

It was only then he realized that he had fallen face-first onto the snow. He tried to push himself back up but found his arms were unresponsive. His legs were like lead, and his breathing was slowing down to an uncomfortable level.

Now he was staining the pure white snow red.

It's so cold.

Snow. That is the one thing that never goes. No matter how much he wanted out of the blistering cold, it would keep piling down, covering the ghost of the place he used to know as 'home'.

Snow isn't always grand. It can be a joy or a harbinger of death.

It's so very cold...

He was tired. He was cold. He didn't want to go on anymore. Not after what happened. Not after what he saw. Not after what he experienced. There was only one thing he wanted now, right before the end.

Why? Why did his friend do this to him? Did he really hate them that much?

That's when the copper-haired eight-year-old boy closed his violet eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of a woman in a white cloak, whose eyes were so silver, they were like shining moons.

================================================================================

And then he woke up seeing a pure white ceiling. So white it was blinding.

"...I don't know that ceiling." He stated aptly in a dull tone.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

That was a voice he had never heard before. Turning his head, he saw that there was a woman sitting in a seat next to the bed he was in. She was a young woman who looked to be maybe only just a few years younger than his own mother. She had dark hair with bits of red in it and wore a white cloak that contrasted with her otherwise dark outfit.