Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 8

As the years passed, Alastor and Vagatha flourished in a world blanketed by perpetual snow, warmth, and joy. They witnessed the village of Snejotep Haven evolve with the passage of time, while they themselves remained unchanged—at least in appearance.

Vagatha observed the transformation of calves into cows, chicks into chickens, piglets into pigs, and children into adults, yet she remained trapped in the body of a girl. She often found herself reflecting on the lives of the villagers, their joys and sorrows, and the fleeting nature of time. Each season brought new changes, and with each passing year, Vagatha felt her desire for freedom and independence grow.

Despite this longing, she held a deep love for Mother Carmilla and felt immense gratitude toward her. Thus, she always followed Mother Carmilla's guidance and avoided trouble, choosing instead to be a dutiful observer of the village. As Vagatha continued to watch over Snejotep Haven, she found solace in the small moments of joy that unfolded around her—the laughter of children playing in the snow, the warmth of families gathering around the hearth, and the vibrant celebrations of the changing seasons filled her heart with a bittersweet longing.

Alastor, in contrast, devoted his attention entirely to Charlotte as she grew and transformed. He watched her blossom into a vision of grace and beauty, her appearance mirroring her kind and gentle spirit. Her skin was as fair and delicate as the first snowdrops of spring, with a natural blush that accentuated her cheeks. Her hair flowed in soft, golden waves, shimmering like sunlight on freshly fallen snow, framing her delicate face and highlighting her bright, expressive eyes that sparkled with warmth and curiosity. Charlotte's vivid blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear winter sky, held a depth of emotion that drew others in, making them feel understood. Her full, red lips, like a blooming rose, often curved into a genuine smile that illuminated her entire face, radiating warmth and compassion. She moved with an effortless elegance, her slender figure bestowing upon her an almost ethereal quality.

Her laughter, like a melodic chime, echoed through the village of Snejotep Haven, uplifting the spirits of those around her. Alastor often found himself mesmerized, watching from the shadows as she interacted with her friends, her cheerful demeanor illuminating even the dreariest of days.

Yet, as time marched on, Alastor felt a tightening in his chest—a strange mix of yearning and despair. He longed to reach out to her, to let her know he was there, watching over her from the realm beyond. But he remained a silent observer, bound by the invisible chains of his existence as a sprite.

His despair deepened as he witnessed the poor maiden endure relentless abuse from her stepmother and stepsister. Alastor could feel the weight that occasionally shrouded her spirit, noting how her smile would wane in solitude or falter under the sting of Eisheth and Lute's biting words. He yearned to free her from the grasp of those cruel women.

"Pray that her father will one day see the truth," Mother Rosamund advised him. "That's all you can really do. Perhaps, someday, you can console her children and grandchildren with the wonders of winter and fall."

"No! I want to console Charlotte. I want to take her away from those people!" he insisted.

"Impossible. A boy like you cannot simply take her. She must willingly give herself to a man, which you cannot be, as you do not grow."

"Then I'll grow up! And marry her too!" Alastor declared defiantly.

"Marry her? My dear boy, you speak as if you have given your heart to her."

"I have! I love her, Mother Rosamund! I always have!"

Alastor's declaration hung in the air, a fragile thread of hope woven into the fabric of his existence. The weight of his feelings pressed against him, a truth he could no longer deny. He was in love with Charlotte, just as Rosamund had always feared.