As the temperature in the great hall rises drastically, the realization finally hits me with full force. This is the end. I'm going to die. Surprisingly, what I feel is neither anger nor hatred but deep regret.
As I stand there, frozen in fear, my mind inadvertently goes back to the very beginning.
My parents' house seemed like the most magical place to me when I was a child, although one wouldn't have guessed that, judging by its exterior. The village where I used to live didn't look very impressive as a whole - it was full of one-storey houses painted in the exact same measly gray color. That is, except the one house in front of ours - it was an ashen black - the result of a fire that had occurred a few years before I had been born. The house's owners, like most of our fellow villagers, were not blessed with excessive wealth and never ended up repairing it.
In their old age, my great grandparents had moved from the capital of Hillwood, my home country, to a village nearing its eastern borders. The problems arose once they had fully settled in. The East tried to separate itself from the West, leading to escalating conflicts. During its time of separation, the East fell behind significantly. Even though in my parents' twenties, easterners had finally started reuniting with the rest of the nation, the situation remained rather hopeless and progress was slow. It did not help that the East had developed a rather hostile attitude towards anyone who had committed the crime of not being a local themselves.
My parents had me when they were in their thirties, so at least our fellow easterners had gotten back up on their feet. Still, my surroundings remained rather undesirable.
Surprisingly, I had never seen them as such until my early teens. Perhaps it was a lack of awareness, or maybe it was just the magic of early childhood. The memories still hold a magical quality to them, although, objectively speaking, they were nothing special. When I was a small kid, I was very sickly and had to be taken out of kindergarten. As my immune system did not get better when I was seven, my mother made the decision to tutor me at home. My family were more than qualified to do so - my father was a scientist before a lab accident badly injured his eyes and my mother was both well-versed in mathematics and languages, not to mention the arts. As for the other subjects, my grandma somehow always arranged private tutoring.
It was a very peaceful existence to be sure, but it was safe to say that my social skills were rather undeveloped. Growing up, I didn't have many friends and the few that I had often turned out to be unduly criticizing me behind closed doors. Oh, who am I kidding, they just hated me and talked shit about me every chance they got. I tried to ignore it at first and kept giving them chances until they had the audacity to cut me off. Eight-year-old me took that to heart, but I still had one loyal friend that helped me through all of it.
His name was Robin. Being a year older than me, he retained all the wisdom of the ancient ones, or that's what he used to say, right after he gave me the most idiotic advice. To be fair, he was quite smart for a nine-year-old boy. We were very good friends, or as he'd say "From womb to tomb". Not that surprising, now that I think about it. Our moms were best friends ever since highschool and practically raised us together. He was also homeschooled and was no more charismatic than me, so we often sat in silence with no idea what to say, but somehow that was never awkward.
However, the times we didn't sit in silence were never boring either. No matter how disadvantageous living in the middle of nowhere was, it still had its benefits. We'd often go around exploring the snowy woods.
On one such a day during March, we went on a particularly long walk. At the time, I was fourteen and he was fifteen.
Trying to hide my cowardice behind 'smartness', I piped up,
"Shouldn't we be worried about bears leaving hibernation?"
Robin laughed, as he fixed his red scarf in place. Even though it was March, my dear homeland is well-known for its freezing temperatures. The Northwest has it worse of course, but even bordering Lilium's scorching desert, our little eastern corner remained icy. According to my parents, that was one of the many signs that our god was still immeasurably powerful, even if he wasn't the most politically active.
"When was the last time there was a bear sighting around here? If you're scared to go so far from the village just say so."
"Oh piss off, mate." I replied, manufacturing my best impression of our Northern accent.
"You didn't deny it, you didn't deny it." he laughingly teased.
I picked up a bunch of snow off the ground and hurled it at him, also laughing.
"Imagine having the AUDACITY to hit your elders!" he scolded, stifling another chuckle. I didn't retain the same composure and continued cackling.
"And I'd do it again too!" I finally replied, picking more snow off the ground, this time taking the time to mold it into a snowball.
"Back in my day-" he didn't finish that sentence. The snowball had hit him right in the nose.
Caught off guard, he stopped dramatically massaging his forehead and immediately prepared for retaliation.
What resulted was a fifteen minute long, heated battle. Finally, exhausted, we both leaned on a tree, trying to catch our breath.
"I definitely won." He boasted, in between panting.
"No the fuck you didn't." I replied, between both coughing and panting.
"Imagine being in denial." he coughed.
"Imagine being short." I retaliated, mocking his cough.
"Imagine being built like a godsdamn giraffe."
"But that's different, aren't you supposed to be taller than me?"
"Not when your entire family tree are out here looking like actual trees."
"Well at least I don't have the fashion sense of a braindead pterodactyl. This outfit you have is not giving-"
"Girl, I know you ain't talking, that yellow jacket makes you look like a taxisled."
Not having a suitable comeback to that, I fell upon the one strategy that never failed me, "Izrod takuv-" (You bastard)
Robin, however, was quick too, "I know where you live."
"I swear to the gods, I will find your exact address." I replied.
"Hmph, well you're not invited to my birthday party!" he said, in his best high-pitched voice, finally letting go of that tree in order to put his hands on his hips.
"Shut up, catboy!" I responded, bringing up dirt from when six-year-old me had made the mistake of letting him look through my wardrobe.
"HEY JUST BECAUSE I WANTED TO SEE HOW YOUR SKIRT WOULD LOOK ON ME DOESN'T MAKE ME A-"
"YOU ALSO STOLE MY PINK HEADBAND-"
"I WAS SEVEN!"
"IT HAD 𝗖𝗔𝗧 𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦, ROBIN! 𝗖𝗔𝗧 𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦!"
"I WAS SEVEN I JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW IT'D LOOK LIKE-"
During that entire conversation, we hadn't stopped laughing, and now, we were so out of breath that we were forced to lean on the tree again.
I started coughing again.
"You good?
I laughed in between coughs.
"No seriously, you good?" He asked, this time with visible concern. I gave him the thumbs up as I continued to cough.
He took his scarf and wrapped it around me.
"Are you trying to strangle me or something?" I asked, laughing in-between more coughs.
"Can't you let me be nice for a second?" he asked, tipping an imaginary fedora when he finished fixing the scarf.
After my coughing fit ended, we sat in silence for a minute. I couldn't help but notice that Robin seemed to be itching to tell me something.
Finally, he took a deep breath.
"Damn this feels kinda awkward."
I looked at him, confused.
"Oh?" I asked. I had never thought that he might find it awkward.
"Look, Rosalie, I have something to tell you." He quickly blurted out, then looked like he immediately regretted his words.
"Oh my gods, Robin, are you gay?" I asked.
"No, no, no it's not that-"
"Don't worry, I still love and support you and I won't tell anyone!"
"No-"
"Oh, yeah I'm sorry, I wasn't supposed to interrupt you saying that, I'm sorry, I know this is an important moment for you and stuff-" I replied, starting to feel awkward too.
"No, no, no, what made you think that-"
"Well, you say 'girllll', 'slay', you're always out here giving me fashion tips, you tried on my skirt when my parents weren't home and you stole that cat ear headba-"
"Enough, enough, enough about the headband! Seriously, a man commits one minor misdemeanor and his whole reputation is tarnished forever!" Robin theatrically exclaimed, overdramatically waving his hands in the air.
"Okay then what is it?" I asked, impatiently.
"Promise not to get mad?"
"When was the last time I genuinely got mad at you?" I asked, faking indignance.
"No, seriously, promise you won't be mad?" He asked.
I was starting to get worried. What could there be that he had to tell me that would make me so mad? Surely not...
"I promise I won't get mad..." I echoed, not really paying attention to what I was saying.
"Well..." he took a deep breath, "I think I like you. Like, like like, you know..."
To say I was stunned was an understatement. I wasn't sure what to say or think. It was stupid, of course, but the idea of us even being more than friends had never crossed my mind. Every time any nosy neighbor had tried to ship us, both of us were quick to adamantly assure them that we were anything but a couple. I never thought that maybe one of us wasn't as honest when dispersing the prying eyes of old ladies on the street.
"You don't have to feel the same way, I'm sorry if this made things weird between us, it's just-" Robin stammered, breaking the loud silence that had fallen. I did my best to pull myself out of the shocked state I was in, but I still couldn't seem to gather my scattered wits together.
"Please give me some time to think this over." I replied, again, not sure what I was even saying.
"Of course." Robbin nodded understandingly, "And, really, I really hope this doesn't affect our friendship and-"
"It won't," I quickly assured him, but I wasn't sure whether I was being entirely truthful or not, "But please, can I be alone for a while?"
Robbin nodded again.
"Of course. If you need me, I'll be at home." he said, awkwardly walking away, trying to not look like he was fleeing in embarrassment.
"Thanks." I replied, not caring whether he heard me or not.
A few minutes had passed and I still felt like I couldn't move. I finally gathered my strength enough to turn around and slowly start walking home. I didn't pay much attention to the beautiful day outside. The only noise that I could hear was my feet kicking the snow around me. My cold hands were mindlessly playing with the scarf hanging from my neck. I continued walking in this trance-like state until a loud noise coming from somewhere above me shook me out of it.
Startled, I squinted my blurry eyes at the snowy slopes towering above me. It was a familiar sight to be sure, I had walked along this path more times than I could count, but there was something odd about it this time. It looked like there was less snow on the top of the cliffs. No, it wasn't exactly like that. The snow seemed to be moving towards the lower parts of the cliff. I blinked, and the snow had moved closer.
Only too late did I realize that the cloud of snow that was swiftly sliding down the slope was actually rushing towards me. At that moment, everything I had learned about avalanches flew out of my head.
A tree fell a few meters away from me. I tried to scan for any other trees in my reach but there was no time to grab onto anything. The ground shook. More trees fell. The large wall of snow was now centimeters away from my face. Everything around me seemed to be happening slowly enough for me to comprehend it yet it was still too fast for me to be able to take action.
At that moment, I thought I'd die. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact.
Surprisingly, it never came. Instead, a loud crash echoed through the woods. It felt as if my ears were set on fire. I finally gathered the courage to open my eyes.
There, I saw that the snow had fallen back against the towering slope. Seeing its unnatural position overwhelmed me with both relief and fear at the same time.
However, I did not waste any time musing about my good fortune. I bolted off and raced all the way to the village. I was by no means invested in sports, but at that moment, I could've won against any world-class athlete.
As soon as I got to our village, another realization hit - I had not seen Robin at all along the way. Not thinking twice, I used my last remaining breaths to sprint to his house, frantically pounding on his door.
If he were there, then of course, I'd be in for a very awkward conversation. If he wasn't...then...
His mother opened the door, her messy black hair cascading down her back, broom in hand.
The state she was in was an obvious clue that I had not arrived with ideal timing, but I couldn't care less.
"Mrs. Lisa, please, where is Robin?" I panted.
Her surprised face said it all.
"Why, Rosalie, dear, I thought he was with you...?"
I looked at her frantically, unable to speak and still gasping for air. She took my hand and led me inside, disregarding my dripping boots.
She sat me down on the couch and then yelled something while facing the door behind me. I couldn't hear what she was saying. The only thing I could hear was a buzzing sound, mixed with the thunderous tremors of the avalanche.
Robin's father burst through the door, questioning his wife about something with a worried expression plastered on his face. I looked away and towards the wall. I allowed myself to unfocus my eyes.
All the colors mingled together, and I was left alone with only my thoughts, or rather, the lack thereof.