Chapter 1: Visitors and Hard feelings

~Four hundred and Sixteen years later

~Jack Frost's Ice Castle; Northern Alaska

Voices drifted through the open window and up on a gust of wind. The high pitched voices of Snow pixies and the deeper laughing voice of Jack Frost. I listened as he gave a group of pixies coordinates and sent them off with orders of a "Snow day". These "Snow days", I came to understand, were welcomed by children all over the world. I didn't know why though, and as I sat on the roof and a group of pixies flew by, I wondered-not for the first time-what the outside world was really like.

I had planned to ask Jack to take me to see it, but he seemed so busy these days, I felt like a bother. That's why I had taken to coming to the roof. I was out of the way while he worked and I never distracted anyone. Plus, I liked it up here. The calm and quiet soothed me. This was also the best place to watch my favorite person, other than Jack, train. Bastian.

Besides Jack and me, Bastian was the only other human here. He was a year older than me, three inches taller than me, and completely gorgeous. Instead of white hair like Jack, or blonde hair like me, he had black hair that hung in his dark grey eyes. He never looked at anyone longer than he had to, rarely spoke full sentences, and took training very seriously. But when he smiled, and he rarely ever smiled, it improved his looks by ten.

I guess I should explain training. Since I could remember, Jack had put Bastian and me through training: harnessing the wind, creating snow, and the like. He even taught us how to fight. Bastian had excelled in every stage of training, while I could barely make it snow. Jack had said that one day I would get it, but I'm still not convinced. The wind, on the other hand, responded automatically, so that was a plus. Unfortunately every time I failed to create snow, Jack would give me this sad look, like I had just let the world crumble through my finger tips. At some points, I would feel like the whole world depended on my making snow.

Oh well, I thought. It's not like that's actually true.

As I started to climb down, I heard the distinct sound of bells. Excitedly, I dropped the rest of the way to the balcony below, and climbed in the window. Inside a hallway stretched to my left and disappeared around a corner. It was lined with dark blue carpet, with intricate snowflake designs woven in to the velvety material. The drapes that flowed around the open windows were a lighter blue, and the material was very thin. Dark mahogany doors placed at irregular intervals followed the hallway, each leading into rooms I have yet to explore. Mostly because they were locked.

I trotted down the hallway and came to a door slightly different from the rest. It was still dark mahogany, but it was etched in different scenes of happiness: Children on Christmas and Easter, waking up to find money under their pillow. And within each scene, gold sparks of light flickered as I turned my body this way and that, letting the light catch them at different angles. As much happiness as the door was supposed to bring, there was also another scene. At the very bottom of the door, the scene depicted a girl standing alone on a hillside. The moon that shone through the clouds seemed to stare down at her, pityingly. Below the girl, another figure stood, staring up at her. Around the figure, flames danced eagerly, as if anticipating burning and eating the flesh of the girl.

I shook my head. Whoever carved this door was either trying to tell me something, or was trying to mess with my head. I sighed and opened it. Inside two couches faced each other on opposite walls. A light hung on each wall, illuminating every corner of the room. I guess it was supposed to be a sitting room. On the wall opposite me, another door stood. It was of the same dark wood as the doors in the hallway. I opened it, and brighter light assaulted my eyes. It took a minute to adjust. As I looked around the room, I marveled at ho big it was. A bed stood about twenty feet to my right, windows lined the wall to my left, and the ceiling was so high, you couldn't touch it even if you had a ladder. The windows over looked a trench so deep, it appeared bottomless.

On the opposite wall, another door stood ajar. Unusual, but not uncommon. I walked over, pushed it open, and two pixies flew out. They chattered, guiltily, and then flew out one of the windows. I raised an eyebrow. What in the world were they doing? I glanced inside. My closet is usually kept pretty clean. Except when pixies get mad. Clothes littered the floor, hangers hung empty, and the ladder was lying on the floor. Why me? Stupid pixies. Shaking my head, I carefully picked my way over to my jeans, grabbing a shirt on the way. I stripped quickly, changed then head back to my room.

Now that I was comfortable and warm, I raced back out into the hallway, followed it around and down the giant staircase in the front entryway, and skid to a stop by the banister just as the door burst open and four figures waltzed in. Jack came forward and greeted each of them in turn and like always motioned for them to join him in his study. Bastian was with him, as usual. And again, a snow pixie came up to put me to work on something else.

I sighed. My birthday was in a week. The least Jack could do was trust me enough to invite me to one of the meetings. Irritated, I swatted at the pixie and stalked off toward the kitchen. I had grown accustomed to coming here during the meetings, so as soon as I walked in another pixie flew up and handed me an apron and a rolling pin. She smiled sympathetically and flew off. I walked up to an empty spot of counter, put the apron on, grabbed some flour and dough, and poured all my anger into baking.