Author: The GORGEOUS cover art was made by none other than the fabulous EnormouseWritour! So happy to have her as the illustrator! Please consider commissioning her at https://linktr.ee/mizelainous !
...
Once Upon a Time,
There was a creature who had a frozen heart
Everywhere it went, it brought snowstorms
that could tear kingdoms apart
All alone it remained
Looking down at humans with great disdain
The villagers feared it and the storms it brought
They could not help it, it was what they'd been taught
But there is one who did not listen to any of the above
What everyone feared, one young man dared to love.
The hunting party made it to their last stop before they reached the area known as Dead Man's Peak. The weather up in these parts was ruthless, and the snow was an almighty force against those that dared step forth, for this mountain was home to one of the most feared creatures in the land. They had one goal: capture the thing and bring it back to their village... if they were so lucky to see it.
The leader of the wolf pack was Elrond, who had sought this beast since he was a child, and was certain that when he finally brought it back for all to see that it indeed was real, he would be lauded among his people. He had spent thirty-two long years hunting it down, but never had he made it past the sharp ridges of these mountains that it called home. While his group of men would be satisfied just to see the creature, Elrond could never be free until he made use of it. Perhaps the mighty winters would stop and the sorry fools down in the village could finally have a bountiful harvest, or their families could make it through the season without a case of pneumonia. Hopefully what he gained from bringing home his kill would give him enough to get out of the sad little town.
The men were laughing around their roaring campfire—it was to be expected, since they were all intoxicated on the mead and beer they'd brought along, but Elrond had meant to let them have it in rations since it was only there to keep them warm and nothing else. Let them laugh, he thought, Lord knows they won't be when they see what we're up against. The woods around them were dark, snow tumbled gently through the air as it normally did this high up. The air was heavy and frigid.
"Aye, if it's this cold in the mornin', we ought to head back."
"Does the cold scare you?"
"Not the cold, but where we're goin' will be a lot worse. Y'know why it's called Dead Man's Peak? Because all you'll find there are the remains and ghosts of everyone who's tried to climb it." That was only partially true; yes, it was known from time to time that the body of a hunter was found up that way, but it wasn't the weather or the climb that killed them. Only Elrond had that knowledge—he prided himself in knowing more than the others. The men were all laughing about the tall tales they'd been told of the mountains and what were in them. Even the forests just outside the village had rumors of being haunted, and children were told to stay away. Many liked to play a game of who could go the farthest into them before getting scared and sprinting back.
"I already don't like this weather, and it's already going to take us a week to get home. Hard travels ahead."
Elrond said, "You've seen plenty of snowstorms; this is nothing but a chill."
"Aye." Replied his subordinate, who was deep in his cups. "But nothing burns worse than the cold."
"Why don't I push you into this fire and see if that's true?" Laughed another.
The night began to deepen, as did the wind. Elrond was grateful that they now had the moon's light. Somewhere off in the wood, a wolf howled. The camp had gone silent since they retired to their fur tents. The night no longer made him afraid like it used to. The mysteriousness of the empty woods at dark now felt like home to him. He was at his most alert; he listened to the wind, the trees, the animals. Most importantly, he listened out for it. It tended not to come near if there was a fire, but it had started to dampen into soot and embers as the night went on, which meant it could be close by watching by now.
Another howl reverberated in the forest, but it was when the winds fell silent that Elrond's heart stopped. Like the flicker of light, the weather changed and all was peaceful, like something needed to clear the air to see. Elrond glanced outside of his tent and reached for his long rifle. His gloved hand around it brought him some comfort as he looked around with eyes as sharp and trained as an owl's.
There was still a problem: It made no sound. He could never listen for it, but only search.
Elrond saw movement from the corner of his eye, but it was one of the hunters shivering in their sleep. Yes, it was colder now. Elrond stood up and trudged away from the party, scanning the area. Cold, colder still. Yes, it was here. "Come out! Dance with me!" He shouted, stirring awake the men who weren't immobilized by the alcohol.
"Elrond! What are you doing shouting like that?"
A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood behind the man, groggy with sleep. It was tall and as pale as the white of the moon.
Elrond heard the gargle of death behind him before he could answer he turned to see it was among them.
It slid forward on silent feet. Hunters scrambled to gather their weapons, but with the simple gaze or touch of its hand, the weapons froze to solid ice and were destroyed. Elrond fired and the creature halted. His strike had failed him as its flesh was coated in an armor of ice. Again and again, the men fired, they attempted to use their blades, but the creature had done this dance many a time.
Elrond saw its eyes; blue, deeper and bluer than any human eyes, a blue that burned like ice.
...
"Jackson." A man shook his son by the shoulder. "Wake up." The boy moaned sleepily—he'd been deep in a strange, long, fascinating dream and he wanted it back for just one more moment. "There's work to do, come on." The boy rolled over and lazily rubbed his eyes. "I'll meet you outside. Don't make me have to throw your sister on you." Said his father. He tried to recall the dream, but much of it had escaped him. Had he been flying, or was something carrying him? He'd seen the tops of mountains and volcanoes and all sorts of sights he could only imagine here in this mundane town.
His dreams were always more interesting; they'd been so vivid lately, but he cared none to share them with anyone. No one here dreamed of anything outside the village borders, except maybe the cuckoolanders that only talked of witches and demons out in the forests. People here didn't find much use in having an imagination.
Jackson Overland knew he'd get an earful from both his parents if he didn't force himself out of bed and start on his chores. He wasn't one to slack, but getting everything prepared for winter was crucial in this town that had virtually nothing to protect them if a blizzard hit. No time was to be wasted. He was a young man of eighteen; it had barely been two weeks since he celebrated his birthday. He felt no different from seventeen, or even sixteen. All that changed was he had more responsibilities than he did the year before. His parents had treated him like he was older than he was his entire life. He'd always been ahead of his years in intelligence, but he didn't like for it to show—more often than not, he tried to disguise it by causing mischief among his peers, always bringing notes home from his teachers about his 'misbehavior' and 'obstructing class.' All he did was pull little harmless pranks, like leaving a frog on the teacher's chair. These same teachers, though, were always giving him high marks on his papers, and even insisting that he should 'act as well as his grades.' Not even his parents complained so long as he brought home good marks. That was the curse of being 'gifted,' every adult expected him to somehow be better than the other kids.
His schooldays were since done with, and now he was among those that were sent off to the fields daily now.
Jack crossed the chilly floor and into the main room of his small home, where his mother was cutting vegetables and his ten-year-old sister, Mary, brought in a jug of water from the pump outside. "You slept late again!" She teased as she handed her mom the water.
"Who asked you?" Jack said back. He ruffled her hair as he walked by. "Where are my shoes...?" He grumbled and looked around. He always seemed to be misplacing them. If he had it his way, it'd be warm enough all year to never have to wear any. But by September it was already too chilly for that, so he couldn't push his luck in early December. His mother was the same way; Emily Overland had far more in common with her son than he did with his father. She'd been a reckless daredevil, while he was always cautious and methodical in everything he did. Emily was always more sympathetic when it came to Jack's restlessness growing up, whereas her husband Nicholas went straight into lectures. Mary was already more level-headed like her father, but she was never fully against her brother's fun-loving ways either.
The resemblance was uncanny as well. Jack was his mother's son, while Mary was her father's daughter. Jack had round, brown eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a petite nose like Emily. Mary's face was rounder, her nose a little wider. Both siblings had rich brown hair; Mary's was long and straight, always neatly brushed. Jack's was messy and untamed in spikes.
"Do you want coffee, Jack?" Emily asked.
"Sure." He found his boots were kicked under one of the chairs and he pulled them out to slip on.
"Mom, is Mrs. Bennet done making my dress yet?"
"I know you're anxious to see it, but I promise it'll be ready before tonight." Emily peered over at Jack. "You've got your clothes picked out by the way?"
"For what?"
"What do you mean 'for what?' There's going to be a party at town hall."
Jack's heart skipped a beat and he groaned. He'd completely forgotten. "Do I have to go?"
"Yes!" She brought him his mug. "It'll look bad if we show up without you."
"It'll be fun, Jack!" Mary insisted. "Mrs. Bennet said I'm gonna have the prettiest dress in the village!" He and Mary had varying ideas of 'fun.' He knew parties weren't just for people to get together and dance; it was about looking good—every time he was there, he was always being shown off to people like his parents were trying to impress everyone. But everyone knew everyone here, or at least of each other.
"Can't we pretend I'm sick? Or dead?" Right when he finished, Emily lightly, but firmly smacked the side of his head. "Ow!"
"Don't even joke like that!"
He sniggered and rubbed his hair. "Okay, okay. Sorry."
"Jack," Emily stopped him as he stood up to leave, "you're a young man now. You know it's important that we start looking for someone suitable for you to marry." He rolled his eyes. "I mean it. It's not normal to be single at your age. When you get home, I want you washed up and in your best attire! And for the love of God, brush that hair!" He was already heading out the door with his drink.
"Love you too, Mom." He closed the door behind him, grateful to be through with that conversation.