Framework

Prologue

 

    Corin stared at the dish with all of his focus. In his peripheral vision, the soft flickering of a dull orange flame as it lapped against the dark cave walls - his single source of light. The breeze responsible for the dancing flame was ice cold, yet as deep in the cave as Corin's chamber was, the breeze still penetrated, reminding him why he dwelled in the cave in the first place. He carefully extracted a small wooden probe from a bowl beside the dish which had been soaking up ground roots from an Umbark plant and held it over the dish. This part was crucial, he knew, and Umbark root grew only on the outside and nobody would dare venture out of the cave for years now. Not before the winter cleared. A single drop began to slowly gather on the end of the probe until it formed into a heavy weight of fluid, a perfect drop. Corin held his breath and his hand steady as the drop finally let go of the probe and fell gracefully into the dish.

    The winter wind outside the caves howled furiously. The falling snow had no chance to rest on foliage before it was turned to a powdery dust. By day, the sky was a grey canvas of cloud so thick that the sun barely got through to light up the landscape. By night, even the fullest moon had no chance to penetrate the clouds, leaving the white snow perpetually black. It had been three days since Corin was able to distinguish day from night. The current storm was one of the worst he had ever lived through. He took a magnifying glass and held it over the dish. As he peered through the glass, he realised he was not even sure what he expected to see. In his previous attempts at this, he only ever had Umbark root of poor quality, lacking the rich dark blue of a truly ripe plant. But this batch was perfect. He took another glance at the recipe in the open book beside him on the desk, even though he knew the recipe by heart. He had read the book written by a great, great grandfather many times since he was a boy. And he himself was now an old man. The experiment had never worked. Would there be a magical glow that would light the entire chamber? Would there be an ear-splitting blast that would scare old women from their beds? Perhaps the very ground would shake? If he had ever succeeded in the past, then he would know. Another couple of minutes passed as he pondered into the dish. When yet again, nothing happened, he rose from his seat and decided to try, once again, another day.

    Corin listened to the wind as he tried to sleep. It sounded like it was talking to him, tempting him to venture outside into the wild. He tossed and turned, trying to think if there were any cracks in the cave he had perhaps forgotten to seal, or that had maybe broke open during the storm. He rose from his bed, knowing that he would probably never sleep until he knew for sure the cave was air tight. He took his dim lantern - he needed to conserve fuel - and pulled his heavy leather cloak over himself to guard against the wind. He headed down a narrow corridor which lead from his chamber toward the communal hall, which was just a larger cavern in the cave system where people congregated. Where is everyone, he thought. Not a single soul occupied the cavern. Very strange. He stood in the middle of the cavern and ran his hands nervously through his beard, as he looked around to the ante-chambers. All of the doors to personal chambers were  ajar. Suddenly, a massive howl of wind spoke to him, flowing in menacingly on a chill in the air that made him shiver. The wind spoke, and Corin turned toward the main entrance to the cave system, and, like all the others before him, ventured toward the wind. Ice cracked under Corin's feet as he trundled hypnotically down the main ante-chamber, past the open doors to the personal chambers and out into the pitch-black eternal winter night.

        Back on his desk, the recipe which had been passed down through family and refined for generations achieved its perfect balance, and came to life right there in the little dish. As it did, the vengeful winter ripped the still open main door to the cave system clean off its heavy and strong hinges and flung it out into the dark. Like a hungry beast the winter blasted its way up the corridor, snuffing out the last few flames that dared glow in defiance of the dark. It tore its way through the ante-chamber, demolishing furniture and turning peoples living chambers upside down. It howled with pure evil delight as it tore the cave system apart. The very wind itself was so cold it would have cut through living flesh where it stood. Still hungering to stamp out the light, the winter wind whirled around the large central cavern as it searched for more prey. It sensed a single flame... It tore away down the farthest corridor until it reached Corin's room. The scent of the single flame, the last trickle of light on this world, made the winter salivate and it slowed it advance as it arrived at Corin's chamber door.

         The winter blew gently on the door and it creaked slightly as it opened. On the opposite side of the room on Corin's desk sat a small candle, still swaying gently in the breeze where Corin had left it alight. As the evil wind - the corrupted weather - advanced on the flame for the final time, the little candle sent out its last rays of light toward the small dish, where a universe had just been spawned. After the entire world had been plunged into endless cold and darkness, the winter turned to leave, coating every surface and crevice with ice so thick that the cave would remained sealed for thousands and thousands of years.