One night in winter, a couple of weeks before Christmas, when the first snow had yet to fall, the proud family of Frostburn was spending the moment with their usual tasks.
Kendalion Frostburn was in his make-shift office under the stairs. He was finising documents that he'd be using tomorrow. Occassionally, he would sip from his mug of now-cold coffee.
In the kitchen, Lethycia, his wife, was humming Christmas songs while she cooked, even though the Christmas season had yet to come.
Their children were also having a great time entertaining themselves.
Ebrahim, a child of eleven, frosted the tiled floor of the living room with his icy powers. He had grown blades made of ice from under the soles of his boots like those of ice-skating shoes. He called them ice blades. He'd laugh whenever he fell and made a crack on the ice.
Adam, who was five years younger than Ebrahim, was up in his room. He waved and traced patterns in the air as vines and branches and leaves from outside his window came swirling in. Like his older brother's, his eyes were glowing. But while Ebrahim's eyes shone with the palest blue of icebergs, his were the bluish green of the sea, bright circles against the darkness. He was attempting to create a statue of himself.
And failing.
What he made was a grosteque twirling of wood with leaves protruding at all sides. He failed to make the raised arm, and the whirling cape.
In a short moment, the ground under them shook. Lethycia shouted Adam's name.
Adam would have laughed at his mother yelling, as earthborn, he often shook the house by accident whenever he felt frustrated. But tonight, he didn't laugh. Instead, he ran out of his room, leaving the grosteque image tumbling down on itself, and down the stairs. He saw his father walking out of his office. Ebrahim was there, too. "It wasn't me, dad."
Kendalion gave him a worried look. "I know, son."
Adam felt a dark aura coming from outside, like a curtain of evil had lowered over their land. And he could tell that his older brother had felt it too. Ebrahim looked scared. "What is it, dad?"
Kendalion didn't answer. His wife came rushing in from the kitchen, mirroring the expression that was drawn on his face.
Worry.
Somehow, they knew what was happening.
"Take the children and make a gateway."
Lethycia nodded and pulled the two boys away, up the stairs where Adam accidentally bumped on a wall. One of his eyes fell out of its socket and rolled down the living room.
He wanted to retrieve it, but did not dare speak. His mother's grip was too tight around his wrist. A sensation began to form at the pit of his stomach, clawing its way into his veins.
He fought it away as he let himself be half pulled and half dragged up the steps.
He began to feel dizzy. Having a splitted vision was an experience he disliked.
Lethycia left strawberries floating in the air with each stride. The achenes grew into thick, hard vines, sealing the way in tangles. Thorns began to pierce their way out of the brown and green twisted mass.
Adam and Ebrahim were both catching their breaths when they reached his room. Adam was bent over but he managed to speak.
"Mom, what is happening? Are we leaving dad behind?"
"We have no time, little one." She touched his face. And frowned when she saw the missing eyeball.
Without notice, Adam focused his vision on the lone eye that now laid at the bottom of the steps as his mother began to curl and uncurl her fingers, wave her arms, and trace patterns in the air.
She's opening a gateway.
Adam's eye barely survived the menacing vines his mother had placed. A thorn nearly grazed its wet softness.
But his field of sight was clear as crystal.
He caught a glimpse of yellowish green light, like the color of nature, before he focused on the living room. He saw his father, a tall and big figure facing the other direction. His hair was a mass of silver around his head. It looked as if light emanated from it. Adam wanted to see his face.
To see his smile.
That wide grin of his.
To see his eyes.
An even lighter shade than Ebrahim's.
But his father did not turn.
The surface around his feet were now frosted with ice. As if given an unspoken command, the wind around Kendalion's forearm began to spin. Tiny snow flakes glinted in its wake, as if they were born with every gust.
The space beyond the windows were dark. But not black.
It was dark crimson.
Like blood.
As a double-handed sword took form in Kendalion's hands, the door was thrown inwards by an unknown force. He braced himself, gripping the sword so tight his knuckles and fingers turned white.
But no one came.
Yet.
Adam drew in a breath. And held it. The sensation he felt earlier was now running a course in his veins. And it was mixed with anxiety. Yet, he couldn't define what it was.
His father kept a steady and measured stance, like a knight in the books. But without the shining armor.
Then, there were...
Windows shattering inward.
Dark red giant spears of crystals bursting in.
And everything was...
Red, red, red!
Adam thought he was going to black out. But he stayed conscious, willing his mind to comprehend.
When his vision went back to his father... Kendalion is gone.
He wanted to call out. But eyes did not have lips.
His vision began to increase in height, as if flying. Then he realised his eye was being raised.
And turned.
He caught a glimpse of a hooded figure. If only he could see his face, learn who he was. At least Adam thought he was a man.
Then his eye stopped turning.
He saw a body lying on the floor. Spears of dark red crimson pierced it from all places possible. It was a ruin, a grosteque image of a dead man. There were red spots everywhere. And they were spreading. Adam knew it was blood.
He saw his eyes.
Lifeless.
His cheeks were smeared with blood.
At least his face remained intack.
His hair, too, was soaked in blood.
Red over silver.
There was no mistaking it.
Then Adam heard a voice. A boy. Within an instant, he was back in his room. A pair of pale blue eyes, like those of the dead man downstairs, stared back at him.
Ebrahim.
And then Adam couldn't feel anything. He began sobbing.
"He's dead." His voice shook. "Dad is dead."
Then they heard a loud crashing. The stairs. He's at the stairs!
"He's coming."
Ebrahim ran toward the door, yelling, "Mom, save him!"
Lethycia was suddenly in front of Adam. "The gateway," she said. "It won't open. But I promise nothing will ever harm you, my son." The Fair Court had not granted us entry, was what his mother did not say.
She began murmuring a chant Adam couldn't understand. Her eyes began to glow again. Green with a hint of yellow. It was a very warm color.
She traced patterns in the air, her fingers fluttering with grace. She almost looked like she was dancing. But Adam knew she wasn't.
His skin began to glow. The same color as the glow of his mother's eyes. He wanted to ask what she was doing to him. But his attention was caught by the sound of frost crawling through the walls and ice cracking.
There was another sound.
Bones cracking.
Then his mother began to weep. But did not stop the enchantment. Adam wanted to touch her face, to comfort her. To assure her that it was okay.
But it isn't.
The door crashed inwards. The sudden force suggested that something was thrown at it. And Adam was right. But it wasn't something. It was...
Someone.
Of course.
It was Ebrahim.
His limbs crumpled on themselves, blue eyes lifeless. At least, his auburn hair, much like Adam's and Lethycia's, wasn't smeared with blood.
"Mom." His voice came out a shaky whisper.
Someone appeared at the threshold.
The hooded figure.
Lethycia had stopped speaking, Adam just noticed. Now, she was touching his face, forcing a smile. But her face was streaked with tears. And her eyes. They were full of warmth. Like the earth itself.
She placed something in Adam's hand.
Then blood sprayed on Adam's face. "No," he forced to shout, but his voice was only a whimper.
"Adam, I--"
His mother began to fall to the floor, a shard of dark crimson protruding form her chest. Her mouth agape, frozen in midsentence.
The shard began to recede, as if it was retreating. It turned to liquid. Then Adam realised. It was...
Blood.
A shadow loomed before him. It was a man. Long, curly hair framed his face. He had high cheekbones and strong jaws. And his eyes. They were as red as blood.
But darker.
Adam found it humorous to notice the beauty of his soon-to-be killer.
Oh, the irony of life.
Right then, he realised what he was feeling, what the sensation that now conquered every part of his mind stood for.
Fear.
Funny, he had so much realization before he was about to die.
Because another had snaked its way to his lips.
"Lord of Blood."
Then everything went black.
Adam knew he died.
So this is death.
