Brandon pushed open the creaking door, the scent of home embracing him as he entered. The warmth of the hearth beckoned, and his family sat around the worn wooden table, patiently awaiting his return.
Alarra, with her gentle smile, looked up from stirring a pot over the fire. "Well, Bran, how was your meeting with the children of the forest? Did you learn everything you wanted?" she teased, wiping her hands on her apron.
Torrhen, seated at the head of the table, had a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes. "Did you have fun, son?"
Alys perked up from where she was arranging wildflowers in a vase. "Did they have magic and all that? Tell me everything!"
"It was everything, it was so cool, and awesome, and just like, yeah. It was great," Brandon exclaimed. "There was so much, and it was so cool, and I can't wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be great."
"Yes, but what about the magic, what did you learn?" pestered Alys.
"Well, I can't tell you that now, can I? It would lose the magic, wouldn't it?" Brandon explained. Alys squinted her eyes at him, giving him a contemplative look. "Or you have no idea what the magic is, huh?"
"That's not true; I know what magic is, and now, because you were mean to me, I am definitely not going to tell you," He said, crossing his arms and moving to the table to sit down for food while Alys looked flabbergasted.
"Well, time for food, and then you two have work to do," Torrhen said, smiling at his two children, hoping the following time would be kind to them.
/
As the day passed, with food consumed and work completed, and just like the snow piling up outside, so did the days pile on, turning into weeks, then months, and years. With time came the snow and hunger. Frost with whipping winds. Death marching every day. The winter seemed to never end and blurred days into each other.
With the weather, it became increasingly difficult to keep all the fields open and working. Animals started to starve just like everything else, becoming the first to be taken by the change in weather. Hunting became more difficult, with fewer wild animals both small and large.
Yet not all light was lost, for there were roaring fires. Abundant stores of timber and firewood provided a lifeline, and so in every home, fire burned day and night to keep the cold at bay. The people of the north would not be so easily bested by winter's grasping bite.
"Happy name day, Brandon. Fifteen years old already; it feels just like yesterday that I started to see you becoming all grown up," Alarra celebrated, rousing Brandon from his sleep.
"Thanks, Mom," he yawned awake.
"Now come on, time to get up, have breakfast, and then head off for your final day with Elder Oak," she told him while walking out of his room.
Brandon left his room and made his way to the dining room, the creaking floorboards beneath him echoing the passage of time in the diluted-vibrant house. The flickering flame in the fireplace struggled to provide the warmth it once effortlessly offered. Despite the fire's roaring attempts, a chill lingered in the air, clinging to the walls like a spectre.
The family had weathered the longest winter in time immemorial, and the toll was evident. The once-bustling household seemed to have grown thinner along with the occupants. The walls, though still standing strong, whimpered of the passing seasons, and the once-vibrant table seemed slender and bare.
Brandon couldn't ignore the changes. The fabric of the house, like the fabric of his family, had subtly frayed. Yet, with each creak of the floor and every flicker of the fire, the family was still here together.
"Good morning, Brandon, sleep well," Torrhen asked.
"Not bad, was yours better, Dad? You said you were quite cold yesterday," he asked.
"Oh, much better. Alara kept me warm. Haha," he bellowed.
"Too much information, Dad," Alys and Brandon said while Alara rolled her eyes at Torrhen.
"What's for breakfast, Mum?" Alys asked.
"Well, today is our area's turn to have some eggs, so we have some good old eggs on bread," she explained.
"Yes, the best days are when it is our turn," Brandon exclaimed.
"Also, dear, remember today we are working on Jonnel's patch of farmland as Rodrick's patch can be cleared up by his lots," Torrhen explained.
"Sounds good, dear," she said.
After finishing his meal, Brandon headed into the village. As he stepped outside, a biting wind greeted him, carrying the chill of the persistent winter. The village, once bustling with life, now seemed quieter, and the air was tinged with a palpable sense of hardship.
The mud streets that used to echo with laughter and the sounds of children playing were now sombre, and the footprints in the snow were fewer and farther between. The houses, some boarded up, stood like silent scars, bearing the weight of the prolonged winter.
As Brandon walked through the village square, he noticed the people, his neighbours and friends, appearing thinner and worn by the challenges of the extended winter. Their faces, once lively, now carried an air of resilience against the unforgiving elements. Empty houses with snow-covered roofs lined the streets, telling tales of families that had left or failed to endure.
Reaching the designated meeting spot, Brandon found Edric and Jon. They too could not escape this never-ending winter and seemed affected by the harsh weather. Their frames appeared leaner, and the lines on their faces mirrored the village's struggle.
"Hey, Brandon," Edric greeted, his breath forming a frosty cloud in the frigid air.
"It's cold," Jon added, rubbing his hands together to generate some warmth.
"Really, I could not tell," retorted Edric.
"I know right, and I tell you, this morning when I looked down at my co-" Jon added with a smile on his face.
"Don't finish that. I don't want to know," Edric said.
"Come on, guys, let's get going," Brandon said, leading them to the outskirts of the village.
As Brandon, Edric, and Jon ventured out of the village, the desolation extended beyond its borders. The fields that were once teeming with life and vibrant crops now lay barren and desolate. Abandoned rows of fields lay bare, only seeming to grow more snow now.
The wind swept through the empty fields, carrying with it a haunting silence. The absence of the usual sounds of chirping birds and buzzing insects was palpable. The air felt still and heavy, lacking the usual signs of nature's vitality. Even the trees, which had stood tall and proud, seemed to bow under the weight of winter's prolonged grasp.
The remnants of abandoned tools and forgotten structures dotted the landscape, serving as poignant reminders of the once-thriving agricultural efforts. The absence of the familiar sights and sounds, coupled with the skeletal remains of the fields, painted a stark picture of the toll the relentless winter had taken on the land.
As the trio continued their journey through the village, they passed by Olga's house, which had once been a lively and welcoming abode. However, now it stood in silence. The windows were dark, and the door swung slightly ajar, creaking in the chilly wind.
Olga's house, once filled with warmth and laughter, now echoed with emptiness. The absence of life within its walls was evident as they approached. The garden that once bloomed with colourful flowers and herbs lay dormant, covered in a thick layer of snow that had accumulated over weeks of neglect.
"Come on, guys, let's get to the forest," Brandon told them. The three boys gave a small bow to the empty abode before heading off.
The trio ventured towards the forest, a place that had once been a sanctuary of vibrant life and mystical energy.
The towering trees that had once stood proud and strong now appeared withered and weary. The bark, which had once boasted intricate patterns and rich colours, seemed faded and drained of vitality. The branches drooped low, carrying the weight of an unseen burden, and the once-lush canopy above appeared sparse, with gaps allowing more sunlight than before.
The air in the forest felt heavy, lacking the lively buzz of creatures and the vibrant energy that had once characterized the enchanted woods. The undergrowth, once a tapestry of diverse flora, now showed signs of decay. Moss that had once flourished on the tree trunks now clung weakly, struggling to survive.
It was as if the life force of the forest had been drained away, leaving behind a skeletal version of its former self. The very essence that had made the woods magical and alive seemed to have been siphoned away, leaving a desolate and subdued atmosphere.
And yet, as the trio stepped into the forest, they were stopped by the most unusual of things. Before them stood a beautiful bold, and proud white stag.
Its coat radiated an incandescent glow that illuminated the surrounding gloom. Its antlers, adorned with a delicate lattice pattern, seemed to extend into the very essence of the enchanted realm. As it moved, its hooves made almost no sound against the muted forest floor.
Eyes that mirrored the wisdom of the ages glistened with an ethereal light, casting a serene and all-knowing gaze upon the troubled woodland. With every step, the white stag exuded an aura of both reality and compassion. It moved with a measured elegance, its presence a sense of hope amidst the desolation.
Yet, before they could gaze upon it for too long, it bolted deeper into the woods, followed by the howls of wolves and the sight of five wolves running deeper into the woods.
"A white stag. Incredible," exclaimed Brandon.
"Truly," Jon said.
The three stood transfixed for a moment before snapping back to reality by the slapping of the wind. They moved on; they had magic to learn, an adventure to take part in, and their village to save.