A/N: Last chapter didn't seem to have lived up to your expectations. I must admit, I didn't like it very much myself. Boring, I'd say. So I decided to rewrite it. Um… it's kinda embarrassing, but I must confess that the update of this chapter wasn't delayed because I was too busy with school work and such, rather distracted – I have George R. R. Martin to blame for that, and his 'A Song of Fire and Ice' series, too. So yeah, sue him if you want, or my cousin, since she was the one who dragged me into this, but leave me out of it, and don't kill me. I like living.
So, has anyone of you read it? A Game of Thrones, I mean. I haven't read the sequel yet. I like Tyrion and Arya, and perhaps Daenerys, too. Don't like Sansa very much, though. And you know what, Tempest, her brother and I did a Game of Thrones house sorting quiz the other day, and guess what the results were? She's a Stark, her brother's a Targaryen and I'm a Lannister. Eesh. A Stark, a Targaryen and a Lannister in one house. Now I see the misery my aunt has to go through.
Okaay, since I can see that some of you must be sending me looks and glares and telling me to shut up because I talk too much… well, yeah, I'll shut my mouth. Enjoy.
"Mathias!"
The young soldier ran. He had no idea where he was going – all he saw was an endless darkness ahead of him and no ground under his feet; yet he kept running forward, searching for something. But what was he looking for? What did he hope to find in the middle of nowhere?
"Mathias!" the voice rang in the air once again, high-pitched and shrill, and full of fear, the scream of a girl… or a woman… he could not tell.
Mathias stopped in his tracks and looked around, amber eyes glowing like flames in the dark. Someone was calling his name. It seemed familiar, yet at the same time it did not.
"Ingrid?" he asked aloud. "Ingrid, is that you?" the young man said again, this time louder.
Silence.
No, it can't be. She's not here. This is a dream, a dream only. Wake up!
Yet he felt himself sinking deeper into it; there was no escape.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Then, after a moment, the very same voice called his name again, "Mathias…" this time so quietly and sounded of pain and agony. It was as though the speaker was right beside him, but there was no one around.
"Who are you? Show yourself!"
It's not Ingrid. It can't be Ingrid. His heart was pounding against his sternum, and his breathing was rapid from his previous run.
"A touch of fire… a touch of life…" he heard the voice chanting quietly. "Only fire can wake ice."
What does it mean? "What are you?" he shouted into the darkness.
"Only fire can wake ice."
That was the last thing he knew before darkness reached out and swallowed him into its grasp…
Mathias' eyes flew open and he set up on his bed, panting heavily. His hair was a damp, tousled mess. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and ran down his neck and bare chest. A gentle cool breeze suddenly brushed against him, and he realised that it came from the window – the shutters must have flown open during the night, probably because there were some issues with the damned bolt again. Groaning, he went to shut it.
It was well past nine in the morning. Lucky for him that it was Saturday, and he had no classes to teach on weekends.
Mathias heaved a sigh, his mind wandering back to the strange dream he'd just had. His head was throbbing now, as if someone was banging a hammer against his skull. The voice was still echoing in his ears, haunting him. Who did that voice belong to?
The young man shook his head and groaned. I must be going mad. Maybe stress is taking its toll on me.
He decided that it was just a fragment of his imagination. After all, his was quite a vivid one. A fragment of his imagination, that was all it was.
He was dreaming again. This was the fifth time in the month already, he'd been having dreams like this for nearly half a year, and it was occurring more frequently; every time it was different, yet still the same in some ways. At first it was only voices, faint whispers or shrill screams; then he started seeing visions, images that only lasted for a split second then vanished as fast as it came, and now the visions were progressively longer. He would find himself in some strange place, somewhere in the wilderness, deep within a dark forest or in the mountains, or in the ruins of an old castle where the walls were cold and dark as if it was haunted by the ghosts of the kings who once ruled them, or it could be in the middle of a battlefield where fingers of smoke almost covered the air and the smell of blood and gunpowder was too copious and too obvious to ignore; the background could be different, but every time it was the same thing. There was a strange woman with white hair, dressed in old-fashioned clothing; she kept calling out his name, screaming for his help and reaching out to him, but when he answered to her, or when their hands almost touched, she vanished and he was pulled back to reality.
However, this time, it was different.
He was standing beside a small stream, in the middle of a forest. He looked around, trying to comprehend where he was, yet found himself completely taken aback by the beauty of nature around him. Huge trees sprung from the ground, their branches and leaves weaving a thick canopy above; drops of sunlight leaked through it and spilled onto the soft, fresh green grass below. The air was thick with the fragrant scents of flowers and ripe fruits; the wind was humming softly, and the stream flowed slowly as if to linger to listen to its gentle melody. The water was clear and almost as calm as a mirror. For a moment, he thought he had been sent to heaven.
Perhaps he was too captivated by the wonders around him that he failed to notice her. She was seated on a rock on the other side, dressed in a dress that was as white as the snowy colour of her skin and the rich, long locks of hair that flowed down her shoulders and back liked the cascade of a waterfall. She was even more beautiful than what he remembered from the vague memories of their previous 'encounters'. A soft smile graced the rose of her lips, and her eyes met his – they were clear and bright and as warm and blue as the ocean.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she spoke softly, her voice sweet and angelic and sounded like music to his ears.
"Beyond my imagination," he smiled at her. "It surprises me to say this, but it's nice to see you here."
"Likewise, Mathias Eriksen."
"So, what is this place?" Mathias asked, glancing around.
A frown suddenly creased her slender brows. "I don't know. This place seems familiar, though I cannot recall where exactly it is. Do you?"
"I'm as clueless as you are." Sighing, he sat down on the grass and crossed his legs, his eyes studying her for a moment. She was young, couldn't be older than him, maybe even two or three years younger. "You're the one I saw in my dreams, the face that appeared in my mind every time I close my eyes and the voice that rings in my ears when I go to sleep.
"I wonder what brought us here. You look… different this time."
"Oh? Different how?" The young woman cocked her head slightly, causing her hair to fall to one side. Her eyes bore into his, seeking an answer.
"I never saw you like this… you look peaceful and…" he paused. "Beautiful." A deep blush deepened the rosy colour of her cheeks, and she quickly turned away for a moment to hide her bashfulness. He only smiled at her reaction. "Who are you?" he asked curiously.
She wrung her hands in her lap, still avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. "I don't know. I remember nothing. I find no shred of memories about my past or my presence, no clue about who I am, my name, my family, where I come from – nothing. But I remember you. I… I was hoping you could tell me who I am." She looked up at him hopefully, but he shook his head, and she lowered her eyes in despair.
"You don't remember anything? Anything at all?" Mathias asked.
"No," she sighed wistfully, knitting her fingers. "All I remember is darkness. Cold, silent and agonising darkness that surrounds me, haunting me; I don't know why, or how, but I've been trapped within in for as long as I can remember." She stood abruptly and began to pace frantically on her bare feet. Mathias also rose from the ground, his eyes never leaving her.
"I need to get out of it," she said firmly. "This is the first time I've been free of it, it feels amazing and I wish it can last forever, but I know it won't. I need to get out, and… do something." She ran a hand through her hair nervously. She looked like a child now, confused, scared, bewildered and panicked, so unlike the poised, graceful woman he saw just moments ago. "I-I don't know what I have to do – I don't even know who I am – but I know that I have some unfinished business to sort out. I'm not dead, by the way, if that's what you thought – I'm alive… or at least I think so." How the hell does she know? "I… Well, we don't have any evidence to prove whether I am dead or not… oh, Gods, now I'm not making any sense." That brought a smirk to his lips. The woman smacked her forehead. "Great, now you must be thinking I'm out of my mind. I'm glad you find my silliness amusing."
Mathias cleared his throat nervously. "No, no, it's not like that. It's just… well, it's nothing. Never mind."
"Right," she looked at him incredulously. "Anyway, my point is that I have to find a way out of this… this darkness, this prison, I need to get back… somewhere, and I have to finish whatever I haven't. I have tried to escape before, and believe me, I've tried countless times. But it never worked." By the look on her face, he could see that she was getting to the point now.
"I cannot free myself, Mathias. Only you can," she said, looking at him straight in the eye.
Hvad? He stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and stunned. "Me?" He finally found his voice again. "Why would you think I can free you? Wait, hold on… this doesn't make any sense. Maybe this isn't real – it's just a dream, after all, and you're probably no more than a fragment of my imagination."
"Mathias, please… listen to me," she pleaded. "I know that this all sounds impossible, that it seems unreal – trust me, I wouldn't even believe in this myself were I you. This may be a dream, but this is real, as real as you and I." She paused, heaving a deep sigh. "Look, I don't even know who I am, where I come from, or how I ended up here. I need you to help me remember. Please, there's something I have to do – I don't know yet – but I have a feeling that it's very, extremely important… it's a matter of life and death. So please… you need to… you have to wake me up, free me from this darkness. I don't think that you can do this; I know it, I know it. Only you can free me."
"I don't understand," Mathias shook his head. "Why would-"
A sudden rumble of the earth cut him off mid-sentence and almost knocked him off his feet. Mathias swayed a little but managed to maintain his balance. Then, his eyes went wide as he noticed the grass beneath him was rapidly turning into a deathly ash-grey colour. Looking up, he saw the same thing was happening with the trees. Light was fading away, slowly giving place for darkness to once again take over. Panicking, he looked over to the young woman to see she was just as confused and frightened as he was. The ground trembled vigorously, and she lost her balance, hitting the ground on her hands and knees. Everything around them was collapsing.
"Our time is up," he heard the woman saying; all colours drained from her face as she looked around. "You're waking up!" she shouted with a quivering voice. He could see the fear written in her eyes, could see how much desperately she dreaded going back to the dark pit that was her prison.
"Mathias, please! You have to free me!" she begged, her voice urgent and frantic.
"But how?" he shouted back. "How can I free you? What if I can't do it?"
He tried to reach out to her. She was fading. He couldn't see her anymore, but he could hear her voice ringing in the empty darkness.
"I know you can do it. Only fire can wake ice. You'll know what to do when the time comes."
Only fire can wake ice…
Then he woke up.
They met several times in the weeks later, in the very same spot, though she never mentioned her request again, and they were still separated by that stream, for, according to her, should any of them step into the water, every connection between them would be cut. So they simply just talked. She still couldn't remember anything about herself, so he told her about himself instead, and she listened to everything he said with a genuine interest, laughed at his jokes and comforted him when he needed. Mathias was still convinced that she was only a fragment of his imagination, but he appreciated her company, even enjoyed it. However, imaginary or not, he had come to see her as a friend, one whom he could trust and confide in.
On one night, he finally decided to tell her his biggest, deepest secret.
"Just… don't panic," he told her. Inhaling deeply, Mathias cupped his hands together, and concentrated. Warmth welled up inside him and travelled to his hands. It radiated off the skin of his palm and gathered into a ball of heat. Then, slowly, a flame appeared, flickering in an orange orb floating above his palm.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped loudly. "You… you can…"
"Yes. I can control fire," he admitted.
"I-I can see that but… I mean, how? It's… it's impossible!"
"I know, I know. It's weird, but… ah…" he ran his hands through his hair nervously.
"How did you get it?" she asked.
"I was born with it – at least according to my mother," he explained. "I don't know why I got this power. My older brother Edgar doesn't have it; my father doesn't, either. And I doubt anyone in my family has." He sighed. "At first I didn't know how to control it, and I was scared. Then I eventually learned how to control it and embraced it. I used to play with it as a child with my brother and-" he stopped abruptly and didn't say anything more.
The white-haired woman frowned. "But you don't love it as you used to anymore," she said. He nodded slowly. "What happened?"
"Well… let's just say that it failed me when I needed it most."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he almost snapped at her. She recoiled slightly and tentatively wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture he noticed she always did whenever she was scared or nervous. Exhaling, he sent her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just…"
"It's alright," she interrupted him. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Mathias opened his mouth to say something, but then he felt the ground shift underneath him slightly. "It's time," he said, although they both knew what was happening already.
"Will I see you again?" he looked at her, hoping that she would smile at him and say yes. But she shook her head sadly. "I don't know," she said. "I fear this is the last time we will ever meet… at least in your dreams."
"Then how can we meet?"
She looked at him, her cerulean blue eyes gleaming like stars. "Only fire can wake ice."
When Mathias opened his eyes, he saw the sun was rising outside his window. Strange, he thought. Usually, whenever having dreams like this, he would wake up panicking and bewildered, with his heart hammering in his chest and his head throbbing. Yet this time, he never felt more relaxed and content.
Summer was on its way; Mathias could feel it in the air already. He had always loved summer. Whereas spring is what brings the seeds of life back to earth, summer is when that life is at its fullest.
Yet, despite his love for the warm, sunny summer, part of him did not want it to come, at least not so early. Because summer also meant goodbye to his students, and the thought of not seeing them for three months saddened him. Little devils they were, yet he loved him as if they were his own children, although he was scarcely ten or eleven years older than the oldest of the kids and looked more like an older brother to them rather than a father.
School was over. It was time to go home. As he walked towards the school gate, someone called him.
"Matt, wait!"
He turned around and saw a girl running towards him. "Emma, what are you doing here?"
"What? No 'Bonjour, Mademoiselle' or 'Hej, lille kanin'?" the ten-year-old panted, big green eyes beaming at him. Mathias rolled his eyes and chuckled at her demeanour. Sprightly as usual, and a little cheeky sometimes, too, that girl. Emma was a French-Norwegian, and also his neighbour. She'd been a little friend to him for two years since he first moved to this city. Emma wasn't one of his students, but she would be next year. He loved the girl dearly. She reminded him of someone he once knew, someone very dear to him.
"Shouldn't you be going home now?" he asked. Emma's classes ended about an hour ago, he knew.
"I waited for you," she mumbled, wringing her hands shyly. "I… well, my father's on a business trip, and I have to walk home alone, and I'll have to be on my own for a week, too. I was, well, I wanted… I was hoping you would let me come over to your place, let me stay with you. Just for a few days. I don't wanna be alone. I'm scared, Mathias. Please?"
Mathias sighed, running a hand through his coarse black hair. She just needed to look up at him with those sad, big eyes of hers and he melted. Just like Ingrid, he thought. "Fine," Mathias finally said. "You can come. I think I'll manage babysitting a ten-year-old." Truth be told, he was actually quite happy about it. Perhaps he could use some company. How long had he been living on his own now, one year, two years? He couldn't remember.
Emma squealed happily and hugged him tightly. "Really? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Alright, alright, you can let go of me now. Come one, lille kanin. Let's go home." He put an arm around the little girl's shoulders and steered her out of the school.
That night, he was reading in his study when Emma suddenly came to him. "I can't sleep," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why?"
"I'm scared. I had a nightmare last night, or at least I think I did. I'm afraid it might come back."
"Oh? What do you mean you think you had a nightmare?"
"Well, it was pretty scary at first, but then it wasn't."
"Care to elaborate?"
The girl cocked her head slightly. "Care to what?"
"Sorry. What was the dream about?"
"Well… I was in some place, I don't know where, but it was so dark. But then I saw a… a blue floating glowing ball. I followed it to a door, a really big door with some weird carvings on it. And when it opened, I came into a throne room, though it was all ruined. The ball led me to another door. I opened it and stepped out, and I saw a forest. I was still following the ball. We went deeper into the forest, until we saw a cave – that was when the ball disappeared. I went into the cave and… I saw a person."
"A person?" Mathias asked incredulously.
Emma nodded. "Yes, a woman. I don't know who she was, but she was beautiful. Like an angel. With white hair and white skin. And she wore a white dress, too. She was sleeping, but I think she was having a nightmare. I tried to wake her, but she didn't open her eyes. Then the blue ball appeared right before me, and it whispered to me…"
"Only fire can wake ice," Mathias whispered, his eyes now wide as plates.
Emma was shocked. "Y-yes. How… how did you know that?"
"Because I have seen her, too," he said. "Once upon a dream."
A/N: I have a week free now, so I'll try to update another chapter as soon as possible. Let me know what you think.
