VitT - Prologue
"What happens, O heart, when you grow so cold you can no longer feel?"
She had gone, but hints of her presence still lingered. The man in the red cloak stood, a wreath of flowers atop his head. One by one, the petals fell, and then the stems twisted, grew, became thorny and dug into the man's head.
"Who can understand? Why can they not? For half a year, we must be seperate. And why?"
His nose caught her scent, still wafting through the air. It was intoxicating, but it also hid daggers, which slowly began to dig their way into his heart. It was only a reminder of her presence, that she had been there but now was not.
"For half a year," he said, his voice becoming a hiss, "they make us part. Is it their own bitterness at having lost? Is it their revenge against us both for not crowning a different ruler? Would they punish another who had won in the same manner?"
The color bled from his hair, truly bled, and pooled in the air about him, amorphous blobs of brown hanging like giant splotches of paint on a canvas. So too did the color drain from his eyes and face, leaving behind greys and whites.
"And how they punish the people of this land," he said, mournfully, the last hint of who he was shining through for a moment. "Down comes the snow, out creeps the frost, and the land lies dead. They take her away and damn this world, the world they fought over. Absolutes? Pfah. Idiots who know not what they do and are ruled by the very things they claim dominion over. We shall show them."
As the red began to run from the man's cloak, the hanging orbs of color began to frost over, hardening, crystallizing. One by one they plummetted under their new weight, shattering upon the marble floors.
"We shall show them who the true ruler of this world is. They shall watch this world freeze over and die, and they will have nothing to rule over. And they will disappear, all except her. All except her."
Frost had begun to spread over the floors, creeping out from the man faster than frost had any right to. His breath became visible as the temperature dropped. His skin was white as snow, and drained of most of it's health. Where once stood a man in vivid colors now stood a man in blacks, greys, and whites. Cold, dead eyes stared out from sunken sockets, the mind behind them locked in thought. And out came a cackle, a laugh like shattering ice.
The King of Winter had returned.
She had gone, but hints of her presence still lingered. The man in the red cloak stood, a wreath of flowers atop his head. One by one, the petals fell, and then the stems twisted, grew, became thorny and dug into the man's head.
"Who can understand? Why can they not? For half a year, we must be seperate. And why?"
His nose caught her scent, still wafting through the air. It was intoxicating, but it also hid daggers, which slowly began to dig their way into his heart. It was only a reminder of her presence, that she had been there but now was not.
"For half a year," he said, his voice becoming a hiss, "they make us part. Is it their own bitterness at having lost? Is it their revenge against us both for not crowning a different ruler? Would they punish another who had won in the same manner?"
The color bled from his hair, truly bled, and pooled in the air about him, amorphous blobs of brown hanging like giant splotches of paint on a canvas. So too did the color drain from his eyes and face, leaving behind greys and whites.
"And how they punish the people of this land," he said, mournfully, the last hint of who he was shining through for a moment. "Down comes the snow, out creeps the frost, and the land lies dead. They take her away and damn this world, the world they fought over. Absolutes? Pfah. Idiots who know not what they do and are ruled by the very things they claim dominion over. We shall show them."
As the red began to run from the man's cloak, the hanging orbs of color began to frost over, hardening, crystallizing. One by one they plummetted under their new weight, shattering upon the marble floors.
"We shall show them who the true ruler of this world is. They shall watch this world freeze over and die, and they will have nothing to rule over. And they will disappear, all except her. All except her."
Frost had begun to spread over the floors, creeping out from the man faster than frost had any right to. His breath became visible as the temperature dropped. His skin was white as snow, and drained of most of it's health. Where once stood a man in vivid colors now stood a man in blacks, greys, and whites. Cold, dead eyes stared out from sunken sockets, the mind behind them locked in thought. And out came a cackle, a laugh like shattering ice.
The King of Winter had returned.