“Was that a Warped?” Ann whispered. “That thing was huge!”

“Ye’ll find out soon,” Kat answered. “Just listen.”

“This is pretty fun. You guys made it sound all boring.”

“The first few times, aye.”

“But I’ve never seen it like this. Changed my mind, this is a lot of fun,” Rosalyn giggled, bouncing in her seat. “We never had all these props and magic to make it even more real. So cool!”

“I need to take you to a performance in Indelholm,” Bren said, nudging Rosalyn with an elbow. “The magic they can bring to bear makes this look like paltry party tricks.”

“Ooooh, yeah, let’s do it.”

On the stage, the curtains rose once more to show Devdan cowering on the ground as the massive dark shape towered over from stage left. He held the glowing pistol up with a trembling hand as he backed away.

“Leave me alone, monster!”

The beast did not slow its advance, the giant prop head moving steadily across the stage. Devdan fired once, twice. The creature closed its eyes as bullets bounced off its hide harmlessly, someone backstage making sound effects.

“Even bullets don’t get through your hide? I have to run. Escape! Surely it can’t make it past the entrance.” Devdan stood and bolted for the mouth of the cave. Skittering noises grew on his heels as he ran. Quickly, he fumbled with his pack before grabbing his horse. “Sorry,” he said remorsefully to the one that would be left behind.

A hideous roar shook the tent, making Devdan and children in the audience jump. Ann’s ears folded back, offended by the loud noise.

“Many of you assume this would be a Warped,” the narrator said as Devdan fled the cave with his horse. “However, this was long before the hordes of nightmares plagued our world. Though Devdan would never know it, he had stumbled upon the lair of an ancient being, one surviving since before the Gods return. A dragon. Thousands of years had stolen its mind as it hid and slumbered. All that was left of such a prideful beast was an animal of great size. Thankfully, such size did indeed prevent it from following our hero.”

“What am I gonna do! The doc is dead, I’m lost in this blizzard, and the town is going to die,” Devdan wailed. “Who’s cereal did I piss in to get this unlucky? I have to make it back home. Maybe I can do something. Anything. If only I could find a way out of this storm.”

“Devdan travelled until his horse’s energy was spent. Tumbling to the ground, the noble beast took its final breath in the frozen winds.”

“You did good by me,” Devdan said gently to the puppet horse, stroking its muzzle. “I’ll remember you for the rest of my life. Though that might not be long. See you later, I guess.” He stood and continued his trek.

“What felt like hours passed as Dev+dan desperately searched for any sign or signal as to where he was, or where he was headed. Every time he turned, scanning the blinding sheet of snowfall, the world seemed to change around him.”

“None of this makes sense!” Devdan cried. The actor thrashed around, desperately looking for a way forward. “We were at the mountain! I just needed to go north from there, and eventually this storm would peter out. Something’s wrong here. I can taste it.”

Devdan continued to march as Ann and the audience watched him with rapt attention. He stumbled once, twice, and toppled into the snow.

“My legs. So weak,” he panted. I’ve been walking too long. So tired.” He acted as if he was about to lay down. “No, Devdan. No sleeping on the job. Get up and get walking. You need to get home!” With a monumental effort, the hero stood and staggered across the stage. Once more, taking a turn and doubling back, he fell face down into the snow.

“Can’t… move,” he groaned, making a feeble attempt to crawl. “Gotta keep going.”

“Devdan, exhausted as he was, nearly gave up hope. There was nothing he could do with a body that no longer listened to him.”

“This is it. Where I die. No gravestone for me. Just another soul taken by a winter storm. Damn my luck.”

“Luck…” a voice rang out. It was cold, clear, and distinctly feminine. “Luck is a funny thing. Even the bad may result in some good. You, Devdan, seem to have fallen upon the edge of the coin.”

“Who?” Devdan raised his head, looking around.

“Can you not see me?” the woman asked. “I am all around you.”

“All I see is ice and snow.”

“Correct. I am the winter storm. The freezing winds and blinding snow. I am the frigid clear sky and the dark moonless night. You don’t know me, yet you do so very well.”

“Goddess?” Devdan whispered through cracked lips.

“Of a sort,” the voice replied. “You had a wish, Devdan. To see your people cured. To save them from their sickness and myself. What would you give to see this through?”

“Anything,” Devdan cried. “I’d give you whatever you wanted.”

“Dangerous words for a mortal,” the woman said icily. “Do not swear an oath you cannot keep. If I give you this power, you will be more than a man. The rules the other gods have placed upon humanity will no longer bind you.”

“I just want to see my people be safe through the winters. Take what you will, Goddess.”

“I will take you,” the voice said, firmly. “You will be the price for this power. Winter is a time of cold and slumber. I grow lonely in my time watching over the lands. You will be my consort.”

“If that is your wish?”

“It is,” the woman said. “Do not mistake me for a patient Goddess. You will serve and attend, and I will spare your people the worst of the winter’s wrath.” In a flurry of snow, a beautiful woman with pale skin and long hair made of ice appeared before Devdan. She reached out hand with a glowing ring. The crystal was immaculate, the shape of a snowflake. She brought it inches from Devdan’s frostbitten face. “Kiss it, and swear your oath.”

“Kinky,” Ann giggled under her breath.

“Shut it.”

“I… yes.” Devdan strained himself and brought his lips to the frozen jewel. A flash covered the stage. As it cleared, Devdan stood hale and hearty before the mysterious woman. “I’m totally fine. What happened?”

“You are mine,” the woman responded simply. “Bound forevermore.”

“What is your name?”

“I am Ymistil.”

“I guess I should ask what you are as well, though that won’t really change my situation.”

“Not quite a Goddess, but a powerful spirit,” Ymistil said. “Perhaps someday the mortals will worship me enough to complete my ascension. That is unimportant to you, Devdan. Go save your village. Spread word of what has happened, and make them know it is by my mercy they survive these winters.”

“Yes, thank you!” Devdan cried. He turned and ran offstage. The curtains fell once again as the scene shifted. 

When they rose again, Devdan was in a village with groaning people surrounding him. Gently, he placed his hand on the forehead of the nearest person. “I don’t know what I’m doing, but please help them,” he prayed. A soft glow coated his palm and seemed to infuse the person he was touching. They twitched and drew in a sharp breath. “Thank you, Ymistil,” Devdan whispered. He moved around the stage, repeating the process until all were sitting, looking around confused.

“Where is the elder? He sent me to get help for everyone, but I don’t see him. I’ve gotta save him too!”

“He is gone,” one villager said. “Two nights ago he passed. We took his body out into the snow, like he told us to with the others. Can’t have them in the warm places.”

Devdan slumped against the wall, head in his hands. “Curses. Couldn’t get back in time for him.”

“How did you do that?” another villager asked. “You were never a healer. It’s why we sent you out!”

“First, bring the rest. I have to fix this before we lose more.”

The curtains fell.

“And so, the village brought all the ill to Devdan. Through the night he exhausted himself restoring those to health. His wife was among the last, as she was one of the least affected.”

The curtains rose.

“Devdan, my love. How did this happen? Such power, and not one you had before.”

“I met a spirit while trying to bring the doctor back. He… died. A beast in the mountains. The spirit, she offered me power. The power to save you and everyone else. I was desperate, dying of cold, and took her offer.”

His wife looked at him, stern. “At what cost?”

Devdan turned away from her.

“At what cost, Devdan?”

“Me.”

Devdan’s wife slumped. “She took you from me?”

“I saw no other way,” the man said, hanging his head. “No way I could face you all after losing the doctor. No way I could let you all die because I failed. I made the choice.”

“Get out,” his wife muttered.

“Darling…”

“Get out! I need to think.”

Devdan stood and walked out of the building. He was met with a circle of villagers, now hale and hearty, waiting for him.

“You must tell us, Devdan. How did you come to this miraculous power?”

“Spread word of what has happened, and make them know it is by my mercy they survive these winters,” the voice of Ymistil floated across the stage.

“A great spirit,” Devdan said, choking back his emotions. “Ymistil, the winter storm. She has given me the power to heal you, along with a promise. A promise that cost me dearly. Know that for this promise, she spares you the worst of the winter storms.”

“Ymistil,” the others murmured. “Goddess of Winter.”

“Devdan was too exhausted to correct them,” the narrator said in a sad voice. “He spoke more of the spirit in the following days, but his hair remained heavy, icy fingers clutched tight around it. His wife hardly spoke to him, and after a month, he heard Ymistil call to him.”

“It is time,” Ymistil’s voice whispered. “Return to me.”

“I… yes,” Devdan said, standing. Slowly, he walked off into a flurry of snow as villagers watched, and the scene changed once more.

“What is this place?” Devdan asked, looking around him. The stage was now covered with large ice crystals, the floor covered in snow.

“The Everfrost. I do not have the power yet, to hold a Seed. My nature takes me across this world, and never settling in one place. This is my domain, however. I believe you mortals call it the spiritual realm.”

“The Everfrost,” Devdan said, shoulders drooping. “My new home.”

“What troubles you?” Ymistil asked as she turned to him with concern. “Were you not able to save your village?”

Devdan paused for a moment, then took a few steps, walking beyond Ymistil so his back was to her. “I did. They praise you as their savior. Worship you. Except one. The one that matters.”

“Who would curse my gifts?” Ymistil spat.

“My wife.”

Ymistil’s face turned from scorn to confusion. “You did not mention this.”

“I didn’t have a choice. It was this, or they would all die. I made my choice. I’ll live with the consequences.”

Ymistil remained silent, and the backdrop whirled, showing time passing. Months passed as they stood there, and neither spoke a word.

“I am not a kind spirit,” Ymistil said at last. “Winters are harsh and brutal. I take what is too weak to survive me, and never let it go. You, Devdan, struck me on that day we met. Courage and tenacity taken by such foul luck. You were also fortunate to meet me, someone who could give you power to help those you wanted. I… perhaps I shouldn’t have done so. Let nature take its course. Go.”

“Go?”

“Leave this place. Return to her. I will call you back to me. You will never truly leave my side, and I will always own your soul, but I afford you this final kindness. Walk the mortal realm during the months of summer. Spread the word of my will, and my power. Return to me when winter comes to these lands. Once the life of your mortal wife ends, you will be mine for all eternity.”

Devdan sat on a crystal. His clothes changed as he did, morphing to the same structure. Slowly, his skin started to change as well, from his feet upwards. Slowly it encased his heart as he sat, before he stood.

“That is… generous. I’ll spend my time wisely then. May I return? Just for this winter?”

“You may. Remember our bargain, or those blessings will be turned against all of mankind. I will strive to make the Everfrost on Earth.”

Devdan nodded, and the scene changed in another flash. He was home, just outside his front door. The audience could see his wife on the other side of the wall, face in her hands, weeping. Slowly, he raised a crystalline hand and knocked. The woman jerked, and turned to the door. Rushing over, she undid the bolt and flung it open.

“My love!” she cried. His new look apparently didn’t bother her. She leapt forward, wrapping Devdan in an embrace. As she did, the crystals melted away, leaving his flesh as it had been. “You’re back. I was so scared I’d lost you.”

“I am,” Devdan said, closing the door behind him. “I’m back. We have more to talk about.”

The curtains fell, and the narrator appeared once more.

“The pair would later agree to their now split life. Devdan had his wife in the summers, while Ymistil took him for the winters. Long did they mourn the separation, but Devdan would keep his word to Ymistil. Long years passed, and finally, his wife met a peaceful death in the arms of her husband.”

The curtains rose over an elderly woman in bed. Devdan sat next to her. He hadn’t aged a day.

“Though they never had children, the couple lived their lives to the fullest with the time they had. At last, death claimed Devdan’s wife. As it did, a cool breeze whispered into the room.”

Ymistil materialised from a flurry of snow. “It is over.”

“It is,” Devdan whispered. “So long, my love.”

“Though still the emobodiment of Winter, Ymistil had spent years with Devdan. She knew his heart as well as his wife by this time.”

“What will you do now?” she asked softly. Her voice was that of the gentle snowfall on a dark, quiet night.

“I will grieve,” Devdan replied. His shoulders shook as he hunched over the body in the bed. “After? I don’t know. I’ll need to think.”

“Our deal remains,” Ymistil reminded him, though it sounded almost like a question.

“Yes. I… this world has no place for me. I do not grow old with them. Take me back to the Everfrost. I will grieve there.”

“As you wish,” Ymistil whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. Gently, they disappeared. The only thing marking their presence was a crystal snowflake placed perfectly on the wife’s forehead.

“Devdan spent many years mourning his wife. Ymistil left him in his grief, returning to her duties. Some time later, Devdan stood from the boulder of ice and joined Ymistil. Together, they now watch over the Winter. Long, cold days full of peril still persist, but there will always be hope. Never will a winter last forever. Not until Devdan himself leaves Ymistil. Then, and only then, will the Everfrost blanket the land. We celebrate this time of year in remembrance and thanks to these spirits. Thanks that the summer comes, and thanks that we are spared the worst of winter. So take this story and spread it wide, as Devdan once did. Cherish those you love, for you never know how long you may have them.”

With this, the curtain rose once more. The cast lined up next to the narrator and bowed in unison to the applause.

“Wow, so was this all real?” Ann asked as she clapped. “Ymistil sounds like she should be a Goddess at this point. Interesting that there’re spirits and Gods and there’s some differentiation.”

“As far as we can tell, this is correct,” Bren answered as they shuffled out of the tent. “Recorded history of this period is unreliable or completely absent. Ymistil herself, however, is a verified force in the world. From what we have been told, or what the Gods have explained, there are forces and consciousnesses so tied to the planet they are a different category of power. Ymistil may be considered a Goddess or a primal spirit. Their power is similar. Ymistil still sought worship and to become a proper Goddess. We should check with Orenous to see if she obtained that. No one has heard from the Lady of Winter in some centuries.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Ann agreed. “So this really did feel like the Hades and Persephone parable I told you about the other day. Up to a point, at least. It doesn’t really explain the summer and winter shift, but does have the romantic parts of it.”

“That it does,” Bren nodded. “Hades had Persephone for a third of the year, causing winter. Ymistil would bring winter no matter what, though. It was more that Devdan was separated and torn between worlds. He was forced into a cruel choice with no easy answers. He made the best choice he could, and Ymistil showed compassion in his grief. Devdan loved his wife while he could, and Ymistil allowed that. Not all Gods are so kind. I do not think these are appropriate parallels, the more I think on it.”

“Well, not everything lines up nice and neat,” Ann shrugged. “Still, it’s an interesting story and a cool basis for a winter festival. I’d rather this be the reason and not some war or tragedy.”

“Aye,” Kat nodded. “Now that we’ve got the history lesson out o’ the way, it’s gettin’ late. Dinner?”

“We are getting proper fare for the festival,” Bren demanded. “Not a quick meal, a proper restaurant. I know the place. Come, Lucia, everyone.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep