DEAD WINTER: A CRYPTIC Anthology

True Love's Gift • Tiffany Daune

His footsteps tread slow, rhythmic and foreboding. Already, I hate Thoron's news. I blow the window to ice, wishing to block the blue sky taunting me. No matter how many storm clouds I summon, the sky warms before the snow can fall. The city instead blossoms this December. Emerald grass pokes from the ground playing the sky's same cruel game. No one's shivering. There's not a hope of any one freezing to death. Something is definitely off this year; perhaps it's just my mood.

"So?" I ask even though I already know the answer.

"No deliveries today." Thoron's voice wavers with fear.

"It's December third! Our advent is three days in and nothing! What the hell is going on? This is so not like him."

Thoron helps himself to the candy dish choosing a golden wrapped toffee. "To be fair all the melted snow flooded the streets. There's no way in or out of the city."

"That's never hindered North before. He has his ways." Thoughts of the time I froze the village of Eastwick for hanging their holiday decorations before the first of December flash through my mind. Even with the treacherous ice, North's gifts arrived on time. I turn to my trusted advisor. Thoron has been with me for centuries, an angel to guide me through each passing year. My sisters, Spring, Autumn, and Summer each have their advisors, but Thoron is the cleverest. He knows how to keep a secret from the others. He never reveals the destruction I cast while my sisters lay sleeping. As I glance his way, Thoron's sharp green gaze slides to the floor. "What is it?" I step toward him stopping inches in front of him. His foggy, cool breath smells of caramel. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's your sister Summer..." He swallows the toffee whole, while meeting my gaze. He's fighting something within.

"Tell me." I place my palm flat on his chest, beneath the safety of his fur coat. At once his skin flecks with goosebumps. The color drains from his neck, as blood rushes to keep his heart from freezing. Survival has always fascinated me. The human body is truly a wonder. How it fights to live even when it would be easier just to succumb. But I can't destroy Thoron's body or I'll have to spend more time searching for a suitable new host for his soul; I don't have time to search for the perfect specimen. Already, it took two weeks to find one this pretty.

"Summer is with North." He gasps sucking the air in full gulps, when I remove my hand.

His words don't register in my mind, they're too crazy to comprehend, but my heart understands at once. Already, the fierce fire of jealousy warms my flesh, which spins my stomach with a rolling sickening ache. I grasp the armchair. Thoron, despite nearly dying a few seconds ago, steadies me from falling. "You're lying." I push him away. "North hates Summer."

"Have you not felt the warm winds?" Thoron brushes the frost from his hand where he touched me. "Your sister is awake."

I clutch my chest killing two snow white butterflies pinned to my dress. "Oh, that's just great. I spent all morning lacing them to the bodice."

Thoron quickly unlatches the cage beside. Guiding a butterfly to his finger, he then cups the insect, fastens the cage and steps toward me. "Let me fix it for you."

"You can't fix this! Is this why my advent gifts haven't arrived? Because he's with her!" With a swift breath, I blow open the doors and with a wave of my hand, they crackle with ice. I know better than to use magic in the tower, but with rage on my mind I could care less if the building crumbles to the foundation, crushing my sisters' caskets.

"Winter, don't go down there." Thoron calls after me, but the elevator doors slide shut before he can reach me.

As the elevator chimes with each passing floor, I think of the gifts of Christmas past. Each year North and I start the holiday season with our days of advent. Last year, each day a gem more dazzling than the next arrived at the tower, and on the twenty-fifth, when there were no more packages to open, he gave me his heart. We were born for each other, as Spring is to West, Autumn to East and my stupid sister Summer to South. North and I are the desolate, the ice warriors; we don't bend to season, we rule it. Why then did he promise his heart, only to take it away?