Merry Christmas, everyone! I present my gift to you: another chapter update! Special thanks goes out to Rossebre and Nekuranekomegami, without whom I'd probably not be updating. Reviews definitely are my preferred method of feedback. If I don't think anyone is reading, I don't update. So, if you want updates, PLEASE REVIEW! I've got a lot of work on my plate, so fanfictions are definitely one of the last things on my mind. Thanks so much and Happy Holidays!

The fierce winds had come to a tumultuous rage, hammering the ground with snow and pellets of ice. What had been bad only magnified in intensity, and it was not hard to see why. Amid the frigid tundra walked a man with incredible power – the power to control the elements of wind, snow and ice, and reigned supreme in his ability to hold a fierce temper. This man, with his high cheekbones, piercingly blue eyes and sharp, glacial hair was not one to be toyed with – and he'd been through hell and back within a single night.

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The epicenter of the turbulent storm had surfaced just above the North Pole, which had thrown the inhabitants into a panic. The winds pounded the buildings so vehemently that the elves feared the walls would cave in and several windows had already shattered after being victim to a barrage of hail.

"How's it looking at the factory, Curtis?" Scott asked, hurriedly throwing on his coat as he shuffled down the hall.

"It's a bit of a mess down here, Santa," Curtis replied, the static of their walkie talkies nearly making his words unintelligible.

"Define a bit, Curtis," Scott replied in a huff, knowing that he wasn't going to receive very good news.

"Several of the windows are broken, Santa, and a lot of the toys have been damaged. Especially the naughty and nice list processer."

Cursing silently under his breath, Scott gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the radio. Little beads of sweat had made their way onto his forehead – it wasn't hard to tell that he was incredibly stressed. "Alright Curtis," he started, "just make sure to keep me up to date. I have to find Angel. She's been missing all night."

With that, Scott placed his hat atop his head and opened the door of his home, cringing at the burst of wind that greeted him. There was a fire within his eyes that none had ever seen – a fire of absolute fury.

"Frost," he hissed, his eyes hard and his mission clear. He wouldn't return until the deed he'd set out to do was done.

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With a loud moan, Angel's eyes fluttered open, revealing nothing but darkness. Was this what death was like?

"My head…" she murmured, wincing at the throbbing beneath her skull, no doubt caused from the severe lack of blood circulation within her body. With a huff, she pushed herself up from the…soft surface she'd been laying on.

"You'll want to lay back down," spoke an unfamiliar voice, causing Angel to jump.

"Who's there?" she asked, her eyes widening in a panic.

"That does not matter now. What matters is that you are alive."

"So, I didn't die," she mused, more to herself than the mysterious voice.

"Not exactly," the voice slurred, its husky timbre sending a chill down Angel's spine.

"What do you mean, 'not exactly?' I am alive, aren't I?" she questioned, not sure what to believe. Was this person hostile? They must have saved her, but could they be trusted? There was a sinister feel to the voice that didn't sit right with her. Her mind was a sea of questions, and before she knew it, she blurted out, "who are you?"

Quicker than a flash, she felt a deep, chilling presence approach just behind her. Completely unsettled, she tried to clamber away on the floor, but managed to get tangled up in the soft confines of the blankets beneath her. Panicked, she realized that she was trapped.

"As I said, that is of little importance right now. You have been resurrected. That is all that matters, Angel."

Despite the unpleasantness of this mysterious savior, she noticed a sense of tenderness when the figure spoke her name. Could it possibly be someone she knew? Someone who loved her? Someone she loved?

Quickly snapping out of her musings, she returned to the defensive. This was no time to dwell on him.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, now more inquisitive than ever.

The mysterious figure let out a deep, sinister chuckle that caused the hairs on her arms to rise.

"All will be answered in time, Angel. Do not fret over what you do not know."

Before she could even comprehend what was said, she felt the presence vanish completely – had she imagined it all? But what of her current situation? She'd been out in the middle of a blizzard and died, hadn't she? Now she was in a pitch black room with several blankets piled beneath her and her unidentifiable savior claimed to have brought her back to life. Had she gone crazy?

"Maybe I'm still out in the storm and I'm in hysterics. There's no other explanation."

Determined to make sense of her situation, Angel carefully removed herself from the tangle of blankets and felt her way along the cold, damp floor. All she needed was to find a source of light – a candle, a flashlight, the sun…anything. It seemed her search was all for naught, though – she was unable to find anything of use.

"Help!" she squeaked, now more panicked than ever. She was being held captive by a crazy man – that much was for certain. She had no prospect of where she was or how she'd gotten there. For all she knew, she was still dying slowly out in the snow storm. But perhaps they were telling the truth? That idea scared her more than ever. Had she really died and been resurrected? How? And by whom?

Everything was one confusing question after another. Little did she know that things were only going to get worse.