A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, so PLEASE give me reviews to help me out. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it; I've read a bunch of RotG stories, and I haven't seen any like this yet, so I thought, What the hell? I'll go for it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians. If I did, it wouldn't be called FANfiction...

I walked and laughed with my parents in the woods. The branches overhead swayed gently in the breeze. Sunlight peeped down through leaves, casting an ethereal glow among the trees. I smiled at a passing bird.

Suddenly, we saw him. He wore a black button-down shirt and grey slacks, and would not have struck me as odd, except for an intricately designed red and gold trench coat. His gaze snapped to my face and he met my eyes. His coat, which had had an almost regal beauty before, seemed sinister and menacing as his inky black eyes stared into my emerald ones.

I glared defiantly back. Suddenly, his lips curled into a wolfish grin as he said, "Ah, so this must be the little firecracker my associate was talking about…let's begin his little experiment, shall we?"

The man pulled out his wand and pointed it at me, speaking fast in a language I didn't understand. Gold light spilled out around me, and I felt like my blood was on fire. I heard my mother screaming and the grunts of my father trying to fight off the strange man. The light subsided and the burning stopped, and I collapsed on the ground, heaving.

I heard my mother gasp and I turned to see what was the matter. She pointed to my back, and I looked over my shoulder and found my sweatshirt had ripped in the back where two pairs of large grey wings had grown out.

"What have you done with her?!" my father yelled, moving protectively closer to me. "Oh, please, I have made her stronger, more powerful. She will make a wonderful apprentice. Come dear, I have much to teach you."

I couldn't stand his smug look or the power-hungry glint in his eyes. "Never!" I cried, "I don't want anything to do with you!" With that, I instinctively held up my hands and let all my confusion and anger out in the form of fire.

Orange and yellow flames poured out of my hands and engulfed the man. I was scared, and ran as fast as my 12-year-old legs would carry me. I could hear my parents panting behind me as we sprinted to our car.

I heard the man screeching in the flames, and suddenly his voice filled my entire consciousness. "You will regret this, girl! Azazel the Sorcerer does not forget an insult!"

I sat up suddenly in a cold sweat. Looking around, I see I'm in my bedroom, no evil, twisted sorcerers in sight. "It was just another nightmare," I assured myself. Upon looking over my shoulder, though, I sighed.

"Well, most of it."