Prologue

Silent whimpers pinched the air as the storm outside raged against the castle walls. Rain—capturing the eyes of the night beyond the clouds—crashed onto thick cobblestones only to slide down into the monstrous jaws of waves claiming the fjord and the isle as its own.

As well as the boy's slumber.

A young child shivered beneath the fort of pillows and blankets he pulled over his head, his chattering teeth on the verge of splitting his tongue. He swallowed thickly as the raindrops clapped against his window, cackling at every flinch he made while burrowing deeper into his bed.

"It's just a storm," his father's voice soothed in his memories. "The only thing it can do is trick you into being afraid."

The boy choked back on a whimper, fingers digging into his thick blanket.

I'm not afraid. He told his self. I'm. Not. Afraid.

A thundering echo of light sliced into the darkness, erupting into a frenzied roar that sent the boy's heart flying off his tongue. The boy yelped, flinching in his fort only to regret it instantly. The boy's legs tangled in the sheets of the bed, yet as he fought against the amorphous cotton arms his body rolled to the side and plummeted to the floor. As his cheek met the hardwood floor with a dull thud, a groan fell from the boy's lips. He buried his teeth into his bottom lip, strangling the cry on the verge exploding and forced his self up.

His muscles sent sharp bolts of pain up his side in protest as the heavy comforter slid from his shoulders. Blinking back the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, the boy wrapped a small blanket littered in sewn snowflake prints and scurried to the door.

The door creaked open as the boy poked his head out into the hall. He quickly tiptoed down the hall, wincing at the squirming shadows snaking behind knight arms and vases. His heart hammered chaotically against his chest until he glanced upwards. His eyes glittered in hope at the blue door before him as he nearly tripped over the edge of his blanket to scurry towards it.

Sucking in a breath, the boy raised his hand towards the door with quivering lips.

This time. He thought, nodding his head. This time for sure.

He curled his fingers into a fist, ready to rap his knuckles against the cool wood until a large hand snatch his wrist. The boy bit back a yelp as he was twisted around and felt his heart drop. Steel, gray eyes burned into the boy until he felt his tongue twitching for words.

Gulping heavily, the air suddenly becoming too thin, the boy stuttered, "H-hi Uncle Ingvar."

The man hovering over the boy arched an elegant eyebrow as he eyed the child up and down.

"What are you doing up?" The hushed, icy voice sent a shiver down the boy's spine. The boy darted his eyes back to the door and up at the man sheepishly. Ingvar caught his glance and clucked his tongue. Red dusted the boy's cheeks much to Ingvar's delight as he chuckled, "You could have just come to me if you were scared."

The boy glanced at the floor with slumped shoulders, pouting at the slippers covering his feet.

"I-I just wanted to—" He was cut off by a sharp gasp as the older man's fingers dug into his wrist.

"You know the rules boy." The words dripped in pure venom. "I told you not to disturb your brother."

A few beads of tears dribbled down the boy's cheeks, feeling his wrist tremble under the cold skin that was growing colder by the second. "But, Elias—" Any oppositions were torn from the boy's tongue as ice slowly crept around his flesh, causing a hiss to spill through clenched teeth.

He didn't want to break another rule by waking the palace.

Ingvar began dragging the boy down the hall, leaving a thin trail of ice behind him as they ventured deeper into the shadows. The boy struggled to not trip over his own feet, wishing for the shadows to whisk him into another sleepless nightmare in his room again. After all, it was better than the one dragging him.

The boy trembled as the shadows draped along the hall became clearer. His brows furrowed as he glanced up at the walls, bare of knights and paintings, that were covered in curtains of dust. Suddenly, the boy's eyes widened, his blood roaring in his ears as Ingvar came to a halt amongst a door. He whirled his head up at the man pulling a key from his robe pocket and began to pull at his wrist.

"Uncle Ingvar, please!" The boy cried, voice cracking under the turmoil raving his being. "Not here! Anywhere, but here!"

The lock clicked and the door creaked open, dust shuddering down from rusted bolts. Ingvar glanced down at the boy's glassy eyes, fighting back a scowl and the violent twitch of his free hand as the sky blue orbs stared up at him. Ingvar sucked in a breath and let a soft smile cross his lips as he leaned down. A lock of pale, blonde hair fell over his eyes, brushing over the boy's forehead, as he whispered, "Who said I'd be joining you."

He released his grip of the child's wrist, throbbing a dull red, and shoved him into the room before them. The boy tripped over the edge of his blanket and crashed onto the floor while Ingvar smirked down at him. The slam that echoed throughout the room caused a sheen of sweat to begin rolling off the boy, yet the sharp, gentle clink of a lock sliding into place cause his heart to stop altogether.

Leaping to his feet, the child raced to the door, wiggling the doorknob frantically as it refused to budge. Tears streamed down the child's cheeks, leaving red webs upon his eyes while his fist banged against the flaking, white wood. As his cries and pleas fell upon deaf ears that had left to the eastern wing of the palace, the boy crumbled to the floor with a silent wail. Burying his face in his blanket, the boy's muffled cries rocked his body back and forth until another cry stole him from his own.

The boy sat up, rubbing the snot and tears from his face with the back of his sleeve as his ears perked up. The cries shuddered throughout the dust infested room, yet after cautiously peering behind threadbare bedposts, broken chairs, and vacant dressers—there was no one there save his self. The boy's fingers crumbled the corner of the blanket in his hand, sucking in a sharp breath as he forced his voice to steadily call, "Hello?"

The crying continued while the boy blinked slowly, twirling around the room until he faced a blanketed object in the center. The sobs trembled through the blanket, leaving a trail of dread pooling in the boy's stomach. The boy gulped, taking small steps forward. He stared at thick, white sheet draped over the object and brought his hand up. Trembling fingers grasped onto the sheet. With a flick of his wrist, the blanket fell, sliding off the edges of a silver canvas holding a mirror that was—empty.

The boy blinked, mouth slack as he shook his head. The crying trembled along the canvas's engravings, yet as he walked around the mirror there was no glass within the oval branch.

Okay, the boy thought uneasily, slapping the side of his head. I've lost it.

Suddenly a flash of lightning struck through the darkness of the room, causing the boy jump back with a scream as he looked at the mirror. Though there was nothing within the canvas, as soon as the lightning sliced through shadows, another pair of startled, glassy eyes blinked back at him. As soon as the lightning fled the room, the mirror grew empty once more, but not without silencing the children's cries.

"W-whose there?" a voice asked that was not the boy's.

The boy gripped his chest, making sure his heart was still there, until he staggered to his feet.

"Uh…" the boy turned his head back and forth. "Me?"

"I not joking!" The voice snapped despite the tremble in his own voice from the mirror. "Show yourself!"

The boy blinked, sighing as he scratched his head. "I kind of am."

The voice from the mirror fell silent until another strike of lightning flooded the room. The boy caught a quick glimpse of another body in the mirror, yet it was not his own. A pile of small bones and ashen flesh bundled into the corner of a dark room rose from his corner, reflecting the startled gaze staring back at him until the lightning died down.

"How did you get in there?" The boy's breath hitched at the back of his throat.

"In…" the voice started hesitantly. "Don't you mean you're in?"

"Not from where I'm standing."

Silence settled over both of them until another bolt of light thundered against the castle. The two yelped while the lightning's echoes cackled in the distance. The boy scurried over for his discarded blanket, wrapping it around his head until the voice called out again.

"Wait," the voice said, making the boy freeze. "Y-you're afraid?"

The boy bit the inside of his cheek as curled around the blanket. He took a hesitant step towards the mirror and shrugged.

"Y-yeah." He sighed, sniffing slightly. He casted his gaze down on the floorboards shamefully.

"M-me too."

The boy brought the blanket around his shoulders and scooted closer to the mirror. "Really?"

"Yeah." The voice sighed with a low laugh. "I thought I was the only one who was afraid of them."

A faint smile tip toed across the boy's lips as he leaned against the mirror's canvas. "So did I."

As the clouds bundled together to spit out another bolt of lightning, the boy glanced out of the small window in the room and cringed. His fingers were ready to throw the blanket over his head until he looked down at crescent rings were buried in his palm from his nails. He glanced at the mirror, looking straight at the wall before him, and murmured, "Do you wanna hold my hand?"

The voice sniffled, blindly eyeing the outstretched palm before him as he tentatively reached for the tiny hand. The boy's heart skipped a beat as a pale hand suddenly around his, their mingled sweat causing their palms to fit together.

"My name's Andy." The boy smiled, his heart slowing down as he squeezed his hand around the palm from out of nowhere. "What's yours?"

Lightning struck within the room, casting the shadows back against their owners as Andy's eyes widened. A pair of ice blue orbs twinkled in the darkness of their own prison; the light tangling in the jungle of his ivory locks while a soft smile bloomed upon his lips. Andy felt the color drain from his face, choking on the dried out tongue holding back his scream, as the boy in the empty mirror murmured,

"Elias."

A/N: I couldn't resist.