The Dreamer

The winds blew hard and cold, biting at the girl who wandered slowly across the frozen landscape. It was the brutality of her upbringing that kept her from crying out as the wind lashed at her small, frail form. She could barely see the stars in the night sky above her through the frozen winds threatening to swallow her whole. The scarce amount of clothes she wore did little to warm her body even if she needed them.
She slowly recited the words that filled her mind.
The blizzard will not harm the girl, for it calls to her.
The visions had guided her here, reassuring her that she was in no danger. They gave her comfort and warmth as she slowly made her way towards the destination frozen in her minds’ eye.
Each light in the northern sky was an ascended spirit who had sworn themselves to the defence of this world. Or so she had been told. She had lost faith in the old tales moments after witnessing the brutal murder of her parents, in their home near the base of the mountains she now climbed. Vowing to pull each and every one of them from their perches and make them answer for not intervening, vengeance had become her primary focus. Even to the least devout shaman, such things would be considered heresy and she would have been exiled from her clan, left to wander the frozen mountains alone.
Again she mumbled the words.
The blizzard will not harm the girl, for it calls to her.
Her people worshipped the great Winter Mother, Hakestra, scion of the north and guardian to the frozen gates of Celestia. Most tribes of the north revered her and made regular sacrifices to appease her wrath. She knew nothing could set a person straight faster than a harsh winter.
None of it seemed to matter now. The winters grew harsher and longer, the old and slow from the tribes were left to freeze when the old homes were no longer viable. The sun shone for fewer and fewer days each year. It was as if the Winter Mother had left them to die; her stubborn children suffering and crying out to her, their lips frozen shut in silent, empty prayer. She could see their faces when she closed her eyes. Each twisted into horrible visages of pain and fear, their eyes are stricken with helplessness as the winter winds devoured them.
The girl didn’t fear the frozen touch of her homeland nor did she fear the wrathful hand of the Winter Mother; it was the singular determination to find what she saw in her mind that became her obsession. An oblong stone protruding from the icy surface of a frozen lake etched itself in her mind every time she closed her eyes, she would see the stone and it called out to her. The dull grey surface was etched with sharp, jagged runes at its base, emerging from beneath the surface of the ice. It was like a beacon lighting the way through the snowstorm.
She closed her eyes and said the words again.
The blizzard will not harm the girl, for it calls to her.
It wasn’t long before she reached a small plateau and saw the lake from her visions. She looked across the valley which held the frozen tarn; its deep blue hue was unmistakable through the snow. Her skin had also become slightly blue around the tips of her fingers and toes and she didn’t feel the bite from the wind either. She was in the eye now.
The stone lay where she knew it would, erupting from the ice at the center of the tarn. Her icy blue finger traced the runes that enveloped it and she pressed her palm against the cold surface. After a moment she laid herself beside it and closed her eyes, hoping to see something to guide her further.
Her dreams took her down into the ice below, into a dark cavern lit by a single dull blue light. She no longer felt the cold or heard the howl of the wind, everything had become a low thrumming, getting louder the closer she drew towards the light.
A large crystalline egg sat nestled half-buried in ice and stone, the girl approached, the thrumming get louder. The closer she got the more she realized that the egg was radiating the blue light from within it. It looked like a blue flame dancing around within a frozen teardrop.
The blizzard did not harm you, girl, for I called you here.
The voice came from everywhere in her dream and she saw, in the ice, the reflection of a woman looking down at her. She wore a long blue dress that looked as if to turn to ice when it reached the ground. Every facet of the jagged shell showed a different angle, a thousand faces staring her down. Deep, wine-coloured eyes pierced through the veil into the girls’ very soul.
I too lost my family. I too feared I lost my soul. I can grant you part of mine until you find no further use for it.
“Are you Mother Winter?” the girl asked.
It matters not who I am but who you will be from here forward. I will remake you, strengthen your body and sharpen your mind. You will never die until you chose to and pass on my flame.
“And if I say no?” the girl replied.
You didn’t.