Cold, that's what I remember is being… cold. The word still lingers on my tongue and echoes through my mind. When they had assigned me to my clan, they said that I was different- special. At the time, there was nothing special about me. My death had been 'normal' even if I could not remember all of the details. I remember feeling lost and confused as if something had been out of place. I knew that I had frozen just outside of a town called Amity, but I couldn't remember why I had been away from home or what reason I had to leave.

According to the ghost elders, my powers manifested early. While most ghosts did not demonstrate any abilities until a week after their death, I was casting bursts of frozen mist within a few hours. At the time, I did not understand what this had meant. Now, I know that their comment meant that I was strong.

Another ghost called Frostbite was the one who escorted me to the land of Far Frozen. He had sensed my frozen core, which they explained meant that I belonged to the land of snow and ice. After my arrival, he had introduced me to my friend, Frost. Through them, I had learned the most basic abilities of the Far Frozen clan. It is the ghosts' way to teach others until they have developed enough to teach themselves. Ghosts can only learn so much from their clan because only our most basic abilities are the same. After a certain amount of time, we become too diverse to learn from each other and must discover the rest of our talents on our own. Then, we begin to learn variations of skills from other clans. However, the use of such abilities may be similar, but the application is still unique making them impossible to teach.

He had brought me to their village and had showed me everything that there was to see in the caverns and on the frozen lakes. The northern lights flickered and reflected blue and green hues above us. They clashed against the ectoplasm that made our realm and formed a dome that secured and kept us safe. It was beautiful and instantly made me love my new home.

Over time, I was told to choose a new name. It was the one thing that I had contemplated for a significant amount of time and exercised caution as I debated what it should be- a new name for a new life. It was common in the ghost zone. Most humans do not want to be remembered for who they were in the past. But, names have meaning, so we must be sure that the meaning is distinguished by who we want to become.

One day, I was traveling across the tundra and found white berries in a shrub where the fruit was covered with ice crystals. Their presence surprised me because of the frigid air and bitter environment. I remembered them as Symphoricarpos, which were also known as ghostberries or—more commonly—snowberries. When I found them, the leaves on the bush had fallen off, but the fruit remained resilient. I admired their strength and mystical appearance of floating. So, at that point… I chose Snow and plucked a few to decorate my hair and cloak.

Today, I walk through the ghost realm. I have ventured further than usually. Wind blows through my white hair causing my dark blue cloak to trail behind me. A mirror of ice levitates in front of my path and the image on the other side is slightly distorted and opaque. It reflects the human realm where an adult couple fidgets with machines and experiments that they have designed. My curiosity is left unsatisfied when they plug in their invention and it refuses to operate. Disappointed, they walk upstairs. In order to know what they are doing, I would have to fly higher. I'm not interested enough in their broken invention. Besides, a boy with raven black hair remains behind with his friends. They are talking, but I cannot hear what it is about.

An icy chill runs through my body. It happens when another ghost is near and is an ability that I developed after my initial training had ended—much like the mirror that allows me to watch the human realm. Controlling it was a challenge at first, but now it is as easy as breathing. The comparison is quite literal. I inhale and allow the cold to bind with my breath. It travels into my lungs, up my throat, and exits through my mouth. This is what I do when I chose to identify who is near me; otherwise, I ignore the initial chill.

The ghost is from my clan and is a friend. Ectoplasms release different energy frequencies. With practice, I have learned to identify them.

"Frost?" I ask without turning.

"You're getting pretty good at that." He laughs. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

He is a head taller than I am and four years older—at least, his 'body' would suggest that age difference. In reality, he is several centuries.

"Watching," I answer as I wave my hand in front of the ice. The mirror fragments and scatters to cover more area. I can now see the entire room in the human realm.

"You like them, don't you? Humans, I mean."

"Is my observing any different than playing pranks and tricks?"

He grins. Frost could project part of his energy into their world. He could not manifest form, but his cryokinesis was powerful enough to reach past our own barriers. It was a less common trait among ghosts, but a select few of us were able to manage.

The human child was putting on a jumpsuit. His female friend continues to encourage him while holding a camera in her hand. I walk closer. My interest continues to grow as I continue deeper into the dome I created.

"Are you sure that you should be getting that close?"

"Why? He can't see me."

Frost continues to keep a safe distance. His head cocks to the side as my mirrors reflect everything that is happening outside of the ghost zone.

"What are they doing?"

I shrug. Truthfully, I had been wondering the same question for months and still didn't have an answer or even an idea. The human child wanders into the machine, which forms a dome and encases him. I follow close behind, invisible to his eyes. Part of me wonders why his family requires such a large mechanism. It would take a considerable amount of space and does not flatter their room as a decoration. Sometimes utility outweighs the disadvantages, but I fail to see what how a nonoperational machine could be used.

I snap my fingers and the ice around me rearranges so that I can have a better view. It is as if I am in the invention. The metal is smooth and flawless. The boy looks unsure as he maneuvers through the wires and controls. I wonder why he continues to explore it if he is afraid, which I can see as he clutches the wall. Surely the girl does not control him, nor do his parents request the he venture inside. His head turns. I flinch seeing the uncertainty in his eyes and then remember that my mirrors allow me to see him but not the other way around.

Something happens. The event flashes before me in slow motion. Instinct controls my body as I try to get as far away from him as possible, but I am too slow. The human child leans against the wall and his hand presses against a switch built into the machine.. There is a spark as I fly away but I am still caught in the current. It rivets through my body and pulls me apart. I scream and hear Frost calling to me.

The electrical current pulses and I am the conductor. Pain burns through my body. For a moment, I can hear the human child scream. It is as if I am dying again, but this time is far more excruciating. It is intensified and I am being electrocuted. Everything reverberates inside of me. Ectoplasm collapses, condenses, and expands.

After what feels like hours- even though I am certain it has only been a few minutes—I am released. When my hands make contact with the ground, I feel the vibration travel from me and through my world. Like an echo, it collects in the distance and is sent back. It passes through my chest as it returns into the human realm.

I collapse. My lungs and body are rigid and I am unable to breath. Frost is near me. He has pulled me away from the accident. My form twitches as it tries to stabilize itself. A part of it fades out of reality and breaks apart as others reform around me. Finally, I gasp for air and wheeze as my ectoplasm reforms a body. Frost holds me as I cough. With his arm supporting me, I can stand.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

I nod. My amethyst colored eyes glow as I struggle to stand on my own. He strokes my hair and hesitates.

"Snow, part of your hair has turned black."

"What?"

My fingers run through the hair that remains white and through the strands. They find the pieces that Frost holds. I pull them down in front of my eyes. Indeed, two sections of hair have turned black. Panic rises but not nearly as much as when I direct my attention away from myself and toward the place where I had stood moments ago.

"We may have bigger problems," I whisper. The ectoplasm swirls. There is a tear where one had not been present. A door has been opened between the ghost and human worlds. "We must inform Frostbite."

He helps me return to our land. My body is still weak from the initial shock. Most of Far Frozen's inhabitants resemble large dogs or wolves with crystal horns on top of their head. It is comical to see the contrast. Frost and I are among the few residents who have a human form in this particular clan. We are a rare breed in this tundra. Here it is only the younger ghosts—ghosts born from a human death and not of pure ectoplasm- that resemble people. Many newborns leave after they have developed their abilities and create domains of their own. Few ever feel comfortable remaining in a place when the assignment is solely conditional on which powers they possess.

We venture into Frostbite's home and call to him. He turns from his books and when he does, there is concern in his eyes. Immediately, he rushes toward me from across the room. His hand traces the sections of my hair that have changed and moves down the side of my cheek so that they can rest on my shoulders. As he does this routine, we begin to explain what has happened. However, I can see the Infi-map on the table, and I wonder if he already knows.

"You are lucky. Most ghosts would have destabilized completely," Frostbite says. My suspicions are confirmed.

"Will she be alright?"

"With proper rest, yes. But, I don't recommend repeating the incident. Snow-"

"You want me to avoid the human realm?" I ask.

He nods. Even though I know that the command is meant to protect me, I still feel the anger rise. Pain throbs in my lip and I realize that I am biting it and my fingers have clenched into a fist. Reluctantly, I drop into a bow and acknowledge that I will obey the request.

"Please understand, your body can't handle another accident."

I snort. He is trying to explain himself, but I already understand why such consequences must be enforced. At least the gesture is meant to create peace between us, even if it is as if he has taken away a part of me.

Curtly, I nod—Just because I know why it is important, it does not make me any more content.

"What has happened?" I question, expecting an answer that will at least suffice my curiosity.

"It seems a portal between the human and ghost zone has been created—a stable portal. What this means, I do not know. In regards of what has happened to you," he gestures to my hair. "I have never seen anything like it before. Perhaps you reformed incorrectly. I wish that I could be more help."

"Very well," I respond. The discussion has ended. He cannot give me anything else nor do I which to continue speaking with him. Frost and I venture outside.

My questions are not done, but I am tired. Frostbite had recommended that I rest. Therefore, I will obey his consultation. Besides, the answers that I am seeking can be addressed later. Any information I need will have to be found in the ghost zone. Far Frozen may not have the answers I seek. If I want to succeed, I will have to leave. Malevolent ghosts reside outside of our frozen walls. Feeders- which prey on the life force of others- are the most dangerous. If I am to leave the security of my home, I must be in good health.

In order to properly prepare, I rest for six months. Rumors have spread about the portal that connects us to the human world. It remains open unlike others which close periodically. This one is… consistent. A desire to explore that section of my world beacons me, but Frostbite disapproves. Consultation has become regular among us due to the prior incident, but my inquisitive disposition challenges what he tells me. Perhaps wanting more knowledge makes me more likely to be disobedient.

Wind blows my hair back as I soar through the realm. Green ectoplasm swirls and doors hover on all sides. The Infi-map would have been beneficial, but Frostbite refused the request. Ice trails behind my path and crystallizes in the air. It forms snow that falls below. The cold is reassuring and familiar. It is a part of me, a part of Frost, and apart of anyone from the land of Far Frozen. Most other ghosts view our gifts as the most primitive. After all, who would fear snow?

It falls near me: soft, peaceful, reassuring. In this state, my powers are not threatening. Few have seen the extent of the storm that I can create… and there are members in my clan that are stronger and more refined. Most of us are loners. We stay within our clan, but I am and always have been unusual. I explored and learned.

There is a large building ahead. I slow my speed and hover on the window sill. A large ghost paces the floor dressed as a 1950s detective. I cock my head to the side. They always tell me that curiosity will kill the cat. It almost killed me once, but I don't often learn from my mistakes. The ghost turns—Walker. Many stories about him have reached us. Most describe his cruelty and his need for 'order.' However, from what has been told, control would be a more proper word.

He is talking and I eavesdrop intently. My hearing is strained as I try to hear through the glass. Walker speaks of a half- breed, part ghost and part human. Apparently, this child has made a reputation in our world within a short period of six months. Frost spreads on the windowsill as my nonexistent heart skips a beat. This child has been among us but no one knew? There was no ceremony to welcome a new member into our realm. Even solitary ghosts are introduced when they are first 'born.'

Walker continues to discuss several disturbances caused by this half breed including: disturbing ghost relations and trespassing into domains. I wonder if that is truly what troubles him as he contemplates solutions to his predicament. One of them is infiltrating the human world and confining everyone in the town.

The ice spreads further as my anxiety grows. Entering that realm is forbidden and no exceptions are made for any reason. That rule is enforced to maintain secrecy and protect us. If it is ever breached, we not only endanger ourselves but everyone else from our land. My breathing hastens and I feel dread. The ice spreads into Walker's domain and covers the table. When I see this beginning to happen, I immediately try to calm myself.

He notices his floor and table. Trying to avoid being seen, I duck behind the wall as his head tilts up to view the window where I am hidden. It is possible that he could have seen me, but I hope that I am mistaken. Unfortunately, that is what has happened. His form manifest behind me and I jump startled. My feet slip into a defensive position and my fingers clench.

"Well, this is a surprise. A fairy from Far Frozen."

I grimace. The comment is derogatory and refers to the mythical creatures that we find weak. They are defenseless creatures who use their powers for fun, games, and pleasure.

"Aren't you a little far from home?" he asks.

"I'm… lost," I say meekly. It is the only thing that I can do. There is no excuse for me to be outside my own sector, let alone in someone else's domain. The only thing that would be worse is if I used a cross-dimensional door.

"Really? You know, I just had a visitor trespass who claimed he did not know the rules and that he was lost. And do you know what happened?" he paces in front of me. I stay silent and shake my head as I watch him hover above the ground. "He helped all of my prisoners escape."

He places his hands on my shoulders. I look up at him.

"Of course, you can understand my dilemma," Walker says. "Especially because I don't know how much you heard. We can't have you running to tell the high council, now can we?"

"I'm afraid that I didn't hear anything."

"For some reason, I doubt that," his grip tightened. "But I know one way to ensure that they will not find out regardless."

I know what he is referring to as I look in his penitentiary and his guards emerge around me. They hold their staffs which are charged with electrical energy. I'm in trouble that much is clear. My eyes shift nervously as I contemplate my next action. Obedience will get me locked away, and Walker has taken several precautions to prevent ghosts escaping. A fight may escalate. I am outnumbered and his guards are well armed. I'm not sure if my powers are enough. It only leaves one option.

My hands slip over Walkers and my shoulders slump as if I have given up. Before he can respond, the ice spreads from my core, through my palms, and over his wrists. He screams from the sudden cold as I turn intangible and flee. Blindly, I fly through the emerald sky which swirls in different shades of green. I don't have time to open doors ignorant of where they will lead as many of them hold their own dangers.

While turning, I send a blast of snow that misses Walker but freezes one of the guards following him. He falls out of the sky and crashes to the ground with a dull thud. My pace quickens as I call for Frost. It's a futile effort. My voice is not loud enough to reach my land.

My body jerks backward as my cloak is grabbed. Icicles are fired from my hand as I fight off my attacker. This time it is Walker, but the magic is not enough to ward him away. He is determined. My only option is to escape into someone else's domain or find the elders. Far Frozen is too far. Even if I could make it back, I suspect that I would be too weak to fight.

Some other ghosts have seen me; one on a motorcycle, another who has a mechanical suit, and a female guitarist who I remember to be called Ember. None of them pay any attention to me. It is not our way to meddle in the affairs of other ghosts unless they are a part of our clan, or disregard the rules that all of us must follow.

My arms flail and I form a wall of ice. Two of Walker's guards break through it and the shards crack and shatter from the momentum. The ice is still an ectoplasm base and ghosts can't phase through it. I fly up into the sky and down so that I can almost touch the River of Repulsion. Spouts of yellow goo erupt and I dodge them to the best of my ability, but my competitors still maintain their distance.

I exit the river and evade several floating rocks and pathways. My body aches and I know that it is because I am using too much ectoplasm. Walker maintains his endurance. This dilemma will have to end soon, or I will not be able to defend myself if I am captured. Concentrating, my hands fold together and my eyes glow violet. A storm rolls into the world and a blizzard begins. It stretches a great distance because I am also hoping to signal my clan. The snow and wind fight for me and encase my opponents while hindering their vision. My sight remains clear because my clan is accustomed to brutal winter.

A portal is in front of me. I have not escaped from Walker yet. He is stubborn. More importantly, he is steadfast in his objective. If the high council discovers his plot, he will face severe consequences. It is enough to ensure his perseverance.

I go through the door too tired to think about what will happen if I do not. It leads me into a laboratory that I have seen before. The boy with raven black hair turns his head. He is here and our eyes meet. My body turns intangible before his brain can register what is happening and I soar through the ceiling and walls. My ice webs its way over the places I phase.

I am in the human world and levitate in a sky that is now blue. My focus darts in several directions and I flee. A blast of energy strikes my back because I am not fast enough. I crash to the ground. Mist escapes my lips as I breathe out and try to force myself to my feet. Walker is behind me, but I am too tired to control my powers, let alone fight him. The entrance through the portal was my last chance.

He grabs the back of my cloak and I struggle against his hold. The ice spreads from my hands. Walker cringes but does not release me. The trick is painful, but he learned to endure it after the first time it happened.

"Let me go," I protest as he forces us to vanish from sight. "What are you doing?"

He brings me into a hospital and we easily pass through the staff and doctors in the building. We enter a room with a girl who lies asleep in a bed.

"It took me a while, but I finally figured out who you are," Walker says with a twisted sneer. "It's Snow, right? The ghost who is fascinated with the human realm, the one who spies on them—is that correct?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just figured (if you're so interested in them) maybe you would like to die as one."

My gaze shifts from him to the girl who rests in the bed. She wears a mask that helps her breath. Other than that, her body is static. There is no movement and her eyelids don't even flutter as she sleeps. The machines regulate her heart beat and brain activity, but I fail to see the relevance.

"This is Kathryn. She has been in a coma for five months according to her chart."

"mortem moriendo," I whisper. Fear has filled my eyes and I shake my head. Suddenly, spending the rest of my afterlife in his prison seems like mercy. "Walker please, don't do this."

I am begging, kicking, and screaming, but no one can hear me. He holds me over the girl and as I try to escape. Frost covers the floor, windows, and machines. It coats his arms and spreads across his torso, but he ignores the chill.

"What are you afraid of Snow? If you live, you can spend the rest of your life as a human, at least until the body dies," Walker smirks and throws me into her. "To bad no ghost has ever lived through the process."

It is the last thing he says as he vanishes from my sight. The pain is immense and I scream as the girl's eyes open—now my eyes. My body is ripped apart and thrown back together as her body rejects my soul like a body refusing a new organ. Alarms sound and doctors rush into the room. Chaos is everywhere as I am stuck with needles and they try to stabilize me.

Someone asks for a defibrillator. My soul begins to slip away, but they press it against my chest and the electricity pulls me back into her. The machine deadlines to indicate that she is not breathing—I am not breathing. They use the defibrillator again and again—this time I cough and inhale. I am sore and something slips away from me. I'm not sure what, but it feels like as I s have settled into a body, another was forced out.

Weakly, I turned my head. There are cries of excitement as they realized that I am awake. A human mother has rushed into the room. Her hair is black and mussed. The doctors try to hold her back, but she pushes her way through and embraces me. I'm confused and unsure what is happening. But, when she pulls away I can see my reflection in her eyes. My hair is as dark as hers except for two white streaks which used to be black. Now, my eyes are brown.

My fingers pull at my hair and I pull them away when I realize they are solid. This is wrong. Adrenaline races in my veins and I can feel a heartbeat as I fall out of the bed and onto the floor. My knee is scraped and there is blood on the tile.

Blood?

That is not right. I don't bleed. Panic rises and they try to hold me back, but I am stronger than I look. My bare feet slip on the smooth tile as I make my way to the bathroom and find the mirror. The sight sickens me. Everything is wrong—I no longer look like a ghost, I look… human.

Bile rises from my stomach and I vomit into the sink. The sour fluid splashes onto the floor. A nurse grabs me and pulls my back as I thrash. I bite her arm, not because she intended to hurt me, but because I am scare and all I know how to do is to resist them. I don't understand what is happening.

I should be dead. I should be a pile of green goo. My form should have been completely destroyed. That is why the ritual is forbidden. I'm crying, I'm confused, and I'm horrified. What has happened to me? What will I do?

A needle punctures my neck and I feel everything go fuzzy. I have been sedated. Tears roll down my face as I realize that I can never go back home and I drift into the nothingness of sleep.