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1. Offering Day

To a normal person, there wasn't anyone scarier than him.

The Snow King

The Kingdom of Arrette trembled beneath the mere mention of the name, everyone across the land knew him, and everyone feared him. They had every right to.
No one was allowed openly talk about the Snow King, and if you did, it had better be a whisper. If anyone thought you worked for him, there was no delay with your arrest.

The world hated him; and he hated the world.

Nobody knew how he came to be, but everyone wished he never existed. Whenever he was angered, blizzards swept into towns. He purposely frosted the crops, knowing that children and livestock would starve. He sent snow to poor villages, knowing that the cold would be too much for the old and weak to bear.

Everyone wanted him to die, but no one had the power to make that dream a reality. He truly was the strongest being to ever exist among humans. And people from all over the land hated him for that. He was a great warlock with a heart of ice, no love for anyone, not even himself...

When the chilling winds became too harsh and the constant snow became too deep, a young prince from across the sea decided to face the Snow King. Once entering the Snow King's castle, the prince felt a chill run down his spine, freezing him to the bone. He pulled is cloak tighter and continued on his quest.

Finally, he met the King. And the chill he felt in that one moment followed him for the rest of his days.

"H-hello," the prince's teeth chattered together. Snow King simply nodded. How dare this pathetic human enter his home, uninvited, unwanted.

"I'm here on behalf of my Kingdom, Bershor, and your neighboring kingdom, Arrette." Bershor, the Snow King thought, that's across the ocean. So, my icy grip finally reached the other side of the continent. The Snow King's mouth twitched in an unnoticable grin. More people to torment, how wonderful.

The prince suddenly felt unsure of himself. But he cleared his throat and pressed on.

"I want to make a deal with you, sir. Your snow and ice are killing innocent people everywhere. Doesn't this bother you?"

"No."

The prince was stunned, but continued. "W-well, it needs to stop! So, what could I give you in exchange for no more snow or ice?"

What an interesting deal...

The Snow King looked around. There was something missing in his home. But what was it? He had everything he wanted. What could this worthless human give him that he didn't already have? A moment passed, and suddenly, Snow King knew what he wanted.

"People."

The prince's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I want people here. That's the deal," his thick, accented voice said.

The prince stood there, trembling. Why did this man want people? To torture them? Enslave them? Eat them?

"Eh, h-how exactly would you have me do it?" the prince enquired. Snow King sighed, what an ignorant human.
"Listen well, brat. If you want to quell my storms, do as I say," the Snow King said calmly, but there was an almost commanding sound in his voice. The prince nodded.

"Every year, put the names of all the people of Arrette in a bowl. I'll take no younger than 10 and no older than 50. Draw a name from the bowl the day after Christmas, and send them to my castle. I expect them to be here before nightfall. Do you understand?"

The prince was in utter shock. This beast of a man was asking him to offer up sacrifices! He shook his head. "Are you sure there isn't any other way? The entire continent is willing to do anything to-"

"Do what I say. Or the deal is off." The Snow King glared at him. But this time, the Prince glared back and marched up to the King's throne. He offered his hand to the King, and they shook on it.

"I'll begin preparations immediately," the prince said before leaving, seeing no other way to solve the problem.

The Snow King smirked at him.

"I know."

-30 YEARS LATER-

Everyone in the Kingdom of Arrette stood in the city square. Today was December 26th, otherwise known as the Offering Day. All the men, women, and children gathered together. The population huddled close, knowing they'd lose another citizen in less than 15 minutes to a man who terrorized every move they made. The glass bowl was filled to the brim with folded paper, the name of every person in the city between 10 and 50 years old.

A well-known pastor, who often visited the royals when needed, stood next to the bowl. His honey eyes were filled with sadness. Today, Pastor Vargas would have the hardest choice that now existed.

The clock struck 12:00. Instantly, Pastor Vargas stuck his hand in the bowl and fished around. Everyone held their breath. He pulled out a piece of paper, gazing at the name. It was a child's name. A little orphaned boy he visited sometimes, who was 12.

"This year's offering is," he cleared his throat.

"Emil Steilsson."

After I wrote this, I suddenly realized how similar it is to the Hunger Games reaping. Ugh. Oh well.