Just a little something I did because why not. Had the idea for quite a while (several years actually) but I've only recently become confident enough in my writing skills to do anything about. The Wish Fulfilment Chapter is in progress, for those curious, I know what I want to do but have trouble coming up with how to do it. I think I'll just write this one when I want to take a break.

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this little bit of writing.

P.S. Obligatory: I bet nobody expected this! Don't worry, you'll get it later.

Chapter 1.

Cold.

So very cold.

I hugged my knees closer to my chest and pressed into the soft snow. The snowflakes danced as they fell from the gloomy sky, twirling and glistening before they landed around me. Or on me.

To move was to die. To breathe too much was to die. To survive one more day without being found was to die.

The winter forest was a truly beautiful sight. The tall trees towering over us, the rare rays of sunlight bursting through the dense canopy. The biting chill on the cheeks that caused me to tighten my scarf every now and then.

Going out was a mistake.

My parents told me it was just a camping trip. We would go out and play in the forest, 'surviving' in the wilderness. Dad was especially eager, describing all the equipment he wanted to take with us, and which tent was the best.

Mom and I just smiled back and nodded as if we understood. Then she'd go to make dinner, leaving me to deal with Dad's newest obsession by myself.

Finally, the packed our things and drove into the forest. The guide Mom read said that it was the most popular spot for family camping, with wonderful sights, easily predicable weather, and several dozen rangers to instruct people on surviving in the wild if needed. Or rescuing them.

Too bad that was a lie.

I heard a sound one night. I strange sound. Something akin to a wolf howling, except that wolf was a whale. A long, piercing song of sorrow and hunger. Needless to say, that only added the charm of the winter forest.

It happened again the night after.

And then the night after that.

And again.

The howl would sound exactly at midnight, rousing me from my sleep. Dad always keeps his phone nearby, so my curiosity was easily sated.

Eventually, I couldn't take it. I wanted to know about the howl so very much. Was it a wolf? Was it a land whale? A whale-wolf?

When I first asked about it, Mom laughed it off, saying it was just a wolf. Of course, she also took that as an opportunity to 'teach me' and started a lecture about how I shouldn't walk around without supervision or the big bad wolf would get me.

Dad, who was eavesdropping from the adjacent room, noted that I'll only be able to walk alone when I grow up, leaving Mom and him behind. Then they broke down crying. It was awkward.

But the Mystery Wolf Howl never left my mind. After I heard the howl once more, I snuck out of the tent we were all sleeping in. I could easily determine which direction the sound came from since I've been carefully listening to it every single night.

I put on my pants and a jacket, wrapped my favorite wooly scarf around my head, and ran into the forest.

At night, the winter forest was different. The trees looked menacing, a giant labyrinth of bark and leaves that offered no escape nor sense of direction. From down below, they stood like spears, stabbing into the starry sky. Vlad the Impaler came to mind. Dracula.

The howl could be heard only once, so I had to rely on my memory to find the source. Good thing was, it should've been close to our camping spot. Mom and Dad didn't raise an idiot, I would never go into the dark forest knowing I'd just get lost.

I still did, of course. Get lost, that is.

The trees obscured the way, the jeering winds sapped away all strength, and, finally, I realized that I had no idea where I was. Left was right, and right was left, my head spun with my body as I tried to look for my way back.

Soon enough, I found my own footprints. I followed them for about a minute before they started to get blurry. Snowflakes were falling like rain, the whole forest conspiring to engulf me in its belly.

Scared, I ran. I ran as fast I could, jumping over fallen twigs and ducking beneath branches. I tripped several times but managed to right myself before I could slam my nose into the snowy pillow.

At one point I felt a sharp tug on my neck and my head snapped backward. An especially crooked-looking branch caught the edge of my scarf, unwinding it. The ground slipped from beneath my feet and I painfully hit my forehead against a nearby tree.

When I opened my eyes again, it was much darker than before. The trees blended together to create a monochrome barrier of black, and even the snow looked grey.

I was scared. It hurt.

I crawled to the thief that stole the birthday gift my parents gave m, and used the tree as support to stand up. I screamed as I ripped my precious scarf off that tree, snapping the branch in two.

The next minute or so was spent angrily stomping on the fallen foe, pouring out all of my fear and anger on the guilty twig.

When the tears dried out and I looked around, there were no more footprints.

I ran around back and forth, yelling the names of every single person I knew. My parents, their friends that came to visit us once in a while. My grandparents. That cashier guy from the supermarket.

I was met with an owl hooting.

I curled up right beside that branch and fell asleep well before the tears burst forth again.

In my dream, I was falling. Falling and falling, air whistling past me as I shattered clouds apart. Before I could even scream, however, I landed. The cold waters of the ocean consumed me, any and all noise lost in the dark depths.

Suddenly, my feet began to tingle, as if they were being submerged into water. A layer of water within an ocean. Slowly, painfully slowly, the feeling creeped up my legs until it reached the knees. Hips. Chest. Arms. Head.

I was shaking by then, this unknown, terrifying feeling, seeping through the skin into my bones, chilling me to the core. It was cold.

I felt cold.

Trapped in an icy prison, except no matter how I struggle, no matter what I tried, I couldn't get out. The water wasn't ice, it wasn't solid. It bent around my limbs, twisted its way into my heart.

So cold.

I felt as if someone plunged needles into my skin. Needle here, needle there. They were long, and thin, easily slipping past whatever defenses my body had and skewering me all the way through.

I died in that ocean. But then I woke. I still breathe, still see, I am alive once again!

But the cold didn't go anywhere.

So here I was, lying curled beneath a tree, half buried in snow. Preserving breath. Preserving movement. Preserving heat.

Cold.

"JASON!" A sound that didn't belong in a forest, "Jace, where are you?! Sweetie?!"

"Mom?" My voice came out weak, frigid, "Mom, is that you? MOM!"

"JACE!"

I heard footsteps. A lot of them. Dogs barking, people shouting. I tried to stand to see what was happening but didn't have the strength and fell over. I was caught before I hit the ground and enveloped in something warm.

A blanket?

Someone through a blanket over me, I realized. A hand slipped underneath my legs and I was lifted up, a familiar face marred by tears filling up the whole world.

"Jace, we've found you… Mommy has finally found, everything is going to be okay now," The face cooed in my ear, "Come now, let's get you home…"

I could barely what happened next. People shouting, bright lights. Dad separating from another group of people and running to me with tears on his face, then hugging both me and Mom. It was warm.

Some people with cameras asked us something but I wasn't paying much attention. Probably why I can't exactly remember what happened. There was one thing, however, one thought that never left my mind.

Not when I was wrapped in several bedsheets. Not when Dad initiated a group hug by dragging me and Mom into his embrace. Not even when I took a warm bath.

It was still so cold.

"Jace, sweetie, breakfast is ready!" Mom's voice was chirpy, probably read something funny in the morning newspaper, "Come down here before it gets cold!"

Ah, now that would be a loss, wouldn't it? No need to waste precious heat.

I hopped off my bed and looked around the room for something to dress into. I've already head three sets of socks, wooly pants, a t-shirt, and a sweater, so a couple of jackets should do the trick.

I made my bed, carefully tucking the corners of both of my sheets under the mattress, and swung open the doors of my wardrobe.

"Too thin, too short, too thin, both, hm, this one seems to fit," I pulled a dark brown jacket out and immediately draped it over my shoulders, "Mmmhm, fine. This, and… that one!"

I took out another jacket, a blue one this time, easily slid both on. It was a bit difficult at first, mostly because jackets weren't made to be worn at the same time with other jackets but I pulled through. Practice makes perfect, as some people say.

"Ja-ace!"

"Coming, Mom!" I slammed the door open and sprinted down the stairs to my left. The house we lived in wasn't extensively big but it was more than enough for a family of three. Especially after a brigade of worker installed a second heating system.

Passing through the corridor on the first floor, I found the door leading to the dining room and kitchen. It was a thick oaken door that reminded me of those castle gates of the old. It was even decorated with various scratches to give it some authenticity. Smiling, I swung the door open.

The kitchen was sparkling white, with touches of black here and there, thus creating an extremely pleasing picture to witness any time of day. Mom had already taken off her apron and was now sitting at the table while reading another one of her newspapers.

I think after that incident in the forest, she took it upon herself to know as much as possible about as many things as possible. Case in point, I had to withdraw from school and switch to domestic study. Not a big loss, friends were never my forte but still unfortunate. Maybe.

Actually, it has given me a wonderful opportunity to spend all my time reading various books instead of wasting it on things like 'greet the teach' and planned breaks, so it was a beneficial change of pace after all.

Dad was sitting to her right, blankly staring at the TV screen while eating the porridge without even looking at his spoon. I didn't even have to look to know that some or other Survival show was currently running. I swear, I was the one who got lost and nearly froze to death, but it was these two that changed the most.

At least they were still their old selves.

"There you are, Jace," Mom smiled as she set the bowl with my own portion of porridge on the table, "Here, hope you enjoy it!"

"You know I always do, Mom." I smiled back and took my seat, picking up my spoon a second later.

"Doesn't make hearing that out loud any less pleasant," she laughed. She then briefly frowned before looking me open and down with concern, "You seem to have put on more than usual, dear. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's just a bit chilly today, is all," I waved her off with a free hand, nodding wisely when both she and Dad twitched. I could understand, it was rather cold after all, "Speaking of, shouldn't you put something on instead? I really don't get how you can walk around wearing almost nothing. You told to always dress according to the weather, so why aren't you following your own advice? Very hypocritical, you know."

Dad chuckled weakly, clearly admitting his defeat: "I guess we're just… more resistant to the weather? Anyway, your usual literature tutor has fallen ill, so we hired a temporary replacement. Just for a couple of days, until Mr. Henderson fully recovers."

"Besides," Mom chimed in, "He's from Italy. I know how much you love hearing stories about different countries, so…"

"Italy?" That, that was a new one! I've never had a teacher from Italy before! Oh, this will be so exciting, I'll ask him about pizza, and pasta, and Rome, and-

"Jace, you're doing the face again," Dad sighed, "Sometimes I wonder if putting you on domestic education was a bad move. You've become more reclusive since you had the chance to spend days reading."

"And smarter too," Mom playfully smacked the back of Dad's head, "Don't listen to the old codger, honey. I tell you, that TV is filling his head with all sorts of nasty stuff. Apparently, pessimism is a trend nowadays."

"Hey!" He played along, fake-glaring at her, "I'm the same age as you!"

"Excuse you?"

"Which is to say, I'm still young! And so are you, yes." Despite such an event being a usual occurrence in this house, I was still enjoying the drama, porridge serving as a tolerable replacement for popcorn.

"So now I'm a liar, huh? Well then…"

"No-no, that's not what I meant, definitely not!" He hastily stood up, actively waving with his hands to articulate just how sorry he was. He also forgot about the spoon he was holding all this time, causing the lump of porridge to fly across the room and hit me in the forehead.

Hearing the wet splat, we all froze. Slowly, my parents' head swirled to face me, while my own eyes looked up and watched as the viscous substance steady dripped onto the dining table.

I burst out laughing first, with them joining shortly after. Despite everything that happened on that day, we were still the same family who loved each other very very much.

I let Mom wipe the food off my face before finishing my own meal. The tutor was scheduled to come in about two hours, so I had plenty of time to just have fun before that happened. Well, my kind of fun.

Thanking Mom for the tasty food, I ran up the stairs and entered my room once again. Unsurprisingly, nothing changed from when I left earlier, the same gaping open wardrobe, neatly made bed, a sealed window, and blankets strewn all over the floor.

I closed the door behind me, cutting off the breeze, and turned on the air conditioner. The bulky machine eagerly got to work, sucking up the stale air from the room and expunging the crisp air of the outside. It wasn't exactly designed to keep the room cool, it was rather cold already, but it did keep the air clean so I wouldn't suffocate to death.

I ran my eyes across my second favorite piece of furniture in this room, right after the bed. The bookshelf. Several of them, in fact.

Since I had to study by myself, excluding the tutors, I naturally had to spend time reading. Even before I got lost and had to go to school, reading was one of my favorite activities, even though it was inhibited by things like 'socializing' and 'hanging out with friends.' Not that I had any.

But now I could read as much as I wanted! Ah, I could feel my hands shaking from anticipation!

Alright, today I will have a literature class, so those books are out of the question. That left natural sciences, history, math, languages, and procreation fiction. Hm, maybe myths? I can't recall the last time I read about King Arthur. Or perhaps something less classic, like Nibelungenlied?

No, I'd rather not fill my heads with those stories right now. Math would pressure my brains too much, so that's out as well. History, science, or just something for fun?

I sat down on the floor, thinking. As always, the blankets channeled their comforting warmth to me, courtesy of the electronic heater blanket beneath them. No matter what some people said, progress was a good thing.

Mhm, yes, very good.

Anyway, I've read about human anatomy yesterday, and doing the same thing twice in a row is boring, so either history or… Would I read Dragonlance or Lord of the Rings? On one hand, Raistlin, bless his soul. One of the best protagonists I've ever read about, all those disagreeing can go kiss Paladine. On the other, Sauron. And Saruman. And the Witch-King. But none of them were main heroes, so there's that.

Tough choice. The fingernail I've subconsciously ordered my hand to deliver to my mouth bumped into something soft. Confused, I rubbed the hand against my face, finding it more pleasant to the touch than usual.

Pulling at it, I ended up staring at my scarf wrapped my fist. I probably put it on when I entered my room after breakfast. Didn't even notice. Oh well, there were more pressing things to do!

History or Dragonlance, Dragonlance or history?

"Idea." I grinned at the sudden bout of inspiration, "Alright, eeny-meeny-miny-… moe!"

The finger I've been waving around zeroed in on its target and poked one of the history books.

"Well, then, let's see what this is," I pulled the tome out and looked at the cover, "The Vatican, huh? If that isn't a sign, nothing is. Maybe even the Lord himself has deigned me worthy to receive such a… eh, blessings? Whatever, the word fits. History it is, then."

I set the time to ten minutes before my temporary tutor would arrive and dropped on my bed with the book tucked under my arm. I decided to not take off the jackets though, the air got even colder since I left this room earlier in the morning.

I've spent the next hour and a half expanding my horizon on the topic of the wondrous City-Within-A-City. Apparently, the Vatican wasn't just a separate city but more akin to a district in Rome that was actually its own city. It was confusing but awesome as hell.

Heh, hell. Funny.

I turned off the ringing alarm and put the book back on the shelf, making sure I remembered the page I finished on. Would be a shame to leave book unread.

Before I left my room, I checked that everything was in place. My favorite scarf was pulled down to reveal my face, the jackets were adjusted to simply make me look plumb instead of weird. I also took extra care shoving the mittens as deep into my pockets as I could.

That was one of the more awkward writing lessons.

After making sure everything was okay, I left my room and headed downstairs. This time, however, I went in a different direction from where the kitchen was and entered a spacious room that could only be called a lecture hall.

Except I was the only one being lectured here. Picking up the bag hanging two meters away from the entrance, I marched to the lonely desk standing in the middle of the room and took my seat.

The bag was swiftly opened, its contents taking their respective places on the table. After all the pens and paper were sorted out, I closed my eyes and waited.

I didn't have to wait for long, fortunately, as the door opened not five minutes after I finished the preparations. I turned to take a look at my new tutor and felt my eyebrows steadily rise up. Two was just a coincidence, right?

The man looked like a priest. Black blazer-looking garb, collared white shirt underneath it, shortly cut black hair and kind ice-blue eyes. I did not like ice. Not because of some psychological trauma, of course, but just thinking of it somehow made the air feel colder. Magic, I'm telling you.

Or rather, considering the current circumstances, witchcraft.

"Greetings, young one," The man took his place across my desk, hands hidden behind his back and chin held high, "My name is Eliot Moretti, and I was hired by your parents to tutor you in literature. Please introduce yourself, then we may begin."

"My name is Jason Brantley," I started to curl my fingers, "I am seven years old- huh?"

I was interrupted by a short chuckle coming from the man standing before me. When I looked up at him with righteous indignation, he just smiled and shook his head.

"Sorry, young one. Inside joke," He gestured with his hand, "Please, do carry on."

"Thank you," I huffed, "As I was saying, I am seven years old, I like reading a lot, and… I mean, I like reading a lot, as in spend a lot of time reading. But also as in reading a lot of books. I do both. Just so we're clear."

"Of course, an admirable trait."

"At least someone gets it," I slapped my cheeks to focus on the matter at hand, getting derailed would make for a bad first impression. I read it in a book, "So, I like reading, and… uhm, warmth."

"Excuse me?" The priest looked at me with polite curiosity on his face, "Warmth?"

"Yeah…" I felt my face heat up. Good job, Jace, you've made a wonderful impression. First time meeting and you're already trying to drag him into your own business, "I just like when it's warm, that's all. Anyway! Can I ask you questions now?"

"Very well, I understand," Eliot nodded with a knowing smile on his face, "As for the questions, I did prepare a course, so to speak, but if you're so curious, please, do ask right away."

"Are you really from the Vatican?"

"Yes, young one, I am Vatican priest," His smile twitched for a second, "Catholic, obviously. Anything else?"

"Do you really-" No, Hellsing, not now. This is not the time! But… The temptation… too strong! "Hunt vampires and werewolves?"

"Oh? Curious about that, are you?" Eliot wiggled his eyebrows, "I don't know if I should answer that, the information is considered confidential…"

"Please tell me!" The nerve of this man! You can't just say something like that to a child! "Please-please-please-please-please-"

"Alright, alright," He laughed, "Kids these days, Lord Almighty! No, we do not hunt vampires or werewolves. Well, the latter does happen from time to time but rarely. I am more of a witch hunter myself."

"Like in the Malleus Meleficarum?!" I leaned forward in excitement, causing the various pens and pencils to roll off the desk. Naturally, I ignored them.

"My, aren't you a well-read one? Yes, exactly like in the Hammer of the Witches," His smile grew into a wistful grin before shrinking back to its 'polite' form, "How did you manage to read it, anyway? I don't think your parents would've let you."

"Bah! Internet, of course. Just don't tell them, please," I paused and swallowed a suddenly formed lump in my throat, "Are you here to… b-burn witches?"

I did my best to ignore the way my hands clenched into fists or how my voice trembled when I said the b-word. Don't think about it, don't think about, don't think about…

"No, by the Lord no!" Eliot pulled out a cross from one of his pockets and held it close to his lips before muttering something, "I was just dropping by to visit an old friend but then I saw an opportunity to help the growing generation. Needless to say, as a man of cloth, I took it without hesitation."

"Huh. Alright then."

"No more questions? Okay then, this here little book is a fascinating piece of classic literature that everybody ought to read. We priests usually call it The Bible…"

The lesson lasted for about an hour after which Eliot politely said his goodbyes, received his pay and left the house. It was only when I returned to the lecturing room to pack all the stuff back into the bag, that I noticed something out of the ordinary.

On the small podium that stood next to the blackboard, there was a small piece of paper. Looking around in suspicion, I carefully approached the offending object and picked it up.

It was a note.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, young Jace. I truly believe that this encounter was a sign from the Lord himself, and eagerly await His next message. Meanwhile, please accept this gift from me. It's nothing special but I hope you will enjoy it.

Blessed be your way,

Eliot Moretti"

Well, that happened. Looking at the podium where the letter once rested, I saw a small silver cross connected to a chain. There really wasn't anything special about it, just a silver cross with some fancy golden linings.

Shrugging my shoulders, I mentally thanked the priest and put the cross around my neck. I wasn't religious by any means but the trinket was fancy, and the whole situation was… unique. So why not keep it?

I finished packing and hanged the bag where it belongs, then headed to my room. I had a book to finish reading, and another book to begin reading. Even though I wasn't yet sure which one would become the latter.

As I reached the staircase, I suddenly heard a short scream coming from the kitchen. Before I could realize what happened, my legs were already ferrying me in that direction. My heart was loudly pumping inside my chest, and my throat constricted in preparation to scream.

You never know what can happen.

I slammed the door open but had only a moment to see my parents' faces go from disgruntled to ashen white upon seeing me. Then the door was slammed shut by Dad, knocking me on my behind.

But what I saw inside the kitchen…

What I felt…

Warmth.

I was back on my legs before I could force myself onto them. I was banging on the locked door before I could tell my hand to clench into a fist. I was screaming before I could open my mouth.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" The door shook with each hit but held strong, "Please, please open the door! Let me in! Mommy! Daddy! I feel so cold, it's freezing here! Why do you keep the warmth all to yourself? Share with me! SHARE WITH ME! I want to feel warm! I hate feeling cold but it's cold, so very cold… Let me feel warm, let me in, let me, let me, LET ME!"

I cried. Tears streamed down my face as the memories of that cold cold cold wormed their way into my mind. But no, those weren't memories. It really was cold. Like in the ocean. I felt a chill coming from behind me.

Almost here, almost here! You move you die, you breathe you die, you survive without warmth and you still die! Why-why-why!

But the door was locked. I was alone. Abandoned. Alone in the cold, just like the last time.

Or was I?

I looked at my hand clawing against the scratched door, barely visibly trails of blood leaking from beneath my fingernails and filing all the cuts and scratches. Did this happen before? Was this not the first time they abandoned me?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something light up through the crack below the door. I was lying flat on my stomach not a second later, pushing myself forward as if trying to fit into the small opening.

I couldn't see anything through it but barely, just barely, I felt a tinge of something warm.

And for this one split second, the cold retreated.

But then the light was no more, and the cold was back.

I had to act now before it got me. I had to move before the deathly chill reached my heart. There was no time to waste.

I sprang onto my feet and run to the staircase. My face hurt, my finger hurt, but, most of all, my soul hurt. Those freezing-cold claws wrapped around my heart. I could feel it.

I smashed into the door to my room, flinging it open, and locked in right behind me. Maybe this way the Cold would take a little longer to get me? Time, I just need some time…

"Where was it, where was it, oh where, oh where, oh where…?" I whistled the tune as emptied the contents of my wardrobe onto the floor. Sure, it wasn't very mature of a young prodigy such as myself, but it helped me focus. It didn't matter on what, just anything that wasn't the Cold.

"Not here, then where? Where-where-WHERE?!"

I was almost out of time! The Cold was already banging on my door, shouting and screaming. Good, so very good that I locked it. That's why I'm so smart. Because I survive.

I found it inside a drawer of my desk, glued to the top where no one would look. No one had any need to. Even I myself wasn't sure why I kept this, but that was then. And this is now.

And now I remembered.

The one happiest moment of my life. It was like birthday coming early, except ten, no, a thousand times better! When I didn't feel the Cold, when the chill wasn't slowly creeping its way towards my heart!

It happened less than a year ago, exactly a week after the incident. And just as today, at this very moment, I held in my hands my treasure…

A matchbox.

I laughed merrily as I threw the papers from my desk on the floor. This not goes here, that textbook goes there… And a book…

…no…

That wasn't right, not a book, not a book-

"JACE!"

The Cold, it's here!

A laugh turned into a horrified scream as I tore the pages out of the book threw them into the air. One book, two book, three book…

"JACE, OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE! YOU ARE HURTING YOURSELF, LET US HELP!"

Vile vile Cold, what a disgusting creature. Using my parents as means to worm into my heart. Well, too bad, Cold, that won't work on me!

Everything was now covered in paper. Glorious, flammable paper.

Tears burst out of my eyes just from thinking about how warm I'm about to feel. Finally, I could feel warm…

"GREG, CALL THE POLICE! KNOCK OUT THIS DOOR, DO SOMETHING!"

"I KNOW, STELLA, I KNOW, GODDAMMIT! AAAAAAAAAAARHG!"

Like music to my ears, the match slid across the side of the tiny box. Chirp, and a tiny Sun rested on my hand. Why would anyone need those pesky sticks anyway if all they did was prevent this bundle of joy and happiness from every reaching you?

With a flick of my wrist, the sun descended. Then it grew. It hopped from one paper to another but something felt off. The sun was lonely. So I made another sun. And then another.

And then it was warm.

The fire rapidly ate through the blankets and papers, causing black smoke to form and float above me. It went for the window, but couldn't pass through. So it turned around and went to me.

"Hello, mister smoke," I reached out with my hand, grimacing in bliss was the fire raced up my pants, "Are you warm as well?"

Turned out it was.

I rolled my shoulder and took a deep breath, feeling the surprisingly viscous substance make its way into my lungs. Now I was warm both inside and outside!

Legs suddenly gave out under me and I crumbled on my back, painfully hitting my head against the floor in the process. At least it was warm, warmer than ever.

I saw an arc of lighting blitz into existence above the electric heater.

Oh warm indeed.