The Pining Frost | Final Letter

A letter blew into the village of Ragne not long after the first few warm gales that ushered in Spring. Where the letter clung on the wooden fence left a deposit of ice.

"I found Saelith.

She stood at the heart of the clearing past trees that had become contorted by the dark. Saelith was barefoot upon the frigid dirt with her breath rising and falling rapidly in pale plumes. Long, tendrils of frost laced her hair in ways unnatural, seeming to breathe with her pace. Her eyes shone faintly silver, reflecting something I could not quite see.

Saelith didn't react until I spoke her name.

She smiled at me.

But her shadow did not move with her, and there were long, sharp prints in the snow that were not hers.

She told me she was happy now. That the wind and cold sings to her. That it showed her wonders beneath the ice, and promised she would never ache again.

She asked me to stay.

I do not know if I can leave.

If anyone reads this, tell the people of Ragne not to follow.

The frost is not empty of soul, it pines.

It is waiting.

- B."