Winter
Prologue
A lone figure clad in ebony with hair like liquid silver and carrying a staff of wood and ice glides soundlessly through the wood in the fading silver light. The scars of battle and death paint the once lively and colorful landscape with varying shades of crimson and iridescent silver. The birds which once filled the air with songs are silent. No sound, no breeze, no movement except for the feet of the single figure. Small white flakes fall from the silver-grey sky.
Still, the figure continues on, never breaking stride.
The days pass. The Holly King, lord of the Unseelie Court, the figure's longtime friend and confidant, tries to convince the silver haired youth that death is not the end, but a beginning. That hope should not be surrendered so easily. That all things come around again, for there is nothing new under sun.
But all this simply further implants into the figure thoughts of despair at not being able to save the one most treasured. Thoughts of failure. Thoughts of loss. Thoughts of death that were not avoided. All memories.
All the figure's fault.
A month has passed and the walker begins to hear the calls of those who came before. Soft, gentle voices calling the silver figure into the grayness beyond.
So long. It's been so long. So long since a hand has reached out to the silver haired youth in true tenderness and love. So long since a once treasured voice whispered promises of a life of mischief and companionship. So long since a fading heart fluttered with an emotion he had long forgotten. So long since a once loved body cradled everything he was in their palm. So long.
Too long.
Several weeks pass. The solitary figure stops walking, knees finally giving way. The unmelted, winter snow has piled up several inches covering the once green grass of the forest floor and now acts as a white bed for the world weary traveler. Leafless trees stretch out their bare arms as if to take what heat can be gained from the already frozen air.
Small, silvery puffs of air emanate from the figure's parted lips as watery eyes stare unseeing into the night sky above. The stars above swirl in their eternal set pattern. But now there that, the thing which caused this madness in the first place. The moon.
They could not win. The battle was long. He lost the will to live.
Silence.
Stillness.
No life exists in this forest. Not even that of the silent, silvery sleeper.
What silver sleeper? There are no beings like that in this forest of silence. There was one once. But the silver hair faded to gray, the crystalline blue eyes dulled to unreflective orbs, the silvery puffs of air faded into the unseen air.
Faded, like so many before. All that remains is a frozen memory lost with the owner of a certain wooden staff. No names, no memories, no regrets, no sounds, no thoughts. Nothing.
All Faded away into oblivion.
Fade.
A human fell through the ice to save his sister and the moon acted.
To Fade.
A/N: This could easily become a multi-chaptered fic and I have part of the later chapters written. I know what I want to happen, but building on mythology and legend can get dark. My Shadow Justice series is plenty proof of that. That said, hang on.