I died immediately when I was born. I was born with a heart of ice, literally, and it had killed me as soon as I was born. Not even a second into the world and I was already dead. Me being my parents only child, they were willing to do anything to bring me back. Even make a deal with the devil. But, that story comes later. Years passed and I had no idea about what had happened when I was born. My family, which consisted of my mother, father, and me, lived in a hand (and magic) made home in an open meadow near a huge forest. My parents and I would go and walk through the forest, my father was the one who taught me how to climb trees. He even made me a treehouse when I was younger, one I haven't gone back to in all those years. When my father and I went alone, we would practice my magic. I got teleportation and portal magic from my mother, and my father would always say I had some of his telepathy, for all the times I could read someone's mind just from their expressions. Since I had a heart of ice, I got ice magic along with it too. It got stronger during the winter, and when I would sit in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around me and my cocoa untouched, my parents always knew I was afraid of if I were to ever lose control of it. But with two more cups of cocoa and two more blankets, we would sit in front of the fireplace and often fell asleep there, just talking and laughing with each other. My mother and I would sing while cooking or baking, and I would sing when I was out in the meadow, picking flowers to make bouquets for my mother. Until one spring, when I was 6 years old. My father and I were just returning from the forest after some practicing and playing. We picked some flowers for my mother but when we walked inside, my mother was lying on the floor dead.
