Chapter 4 An Ice Cold Sight
Dante appeared on a cloudy day. Just as a slight breeze from the East went right past the icy coldness of his world. He was standing before a field of slick blue ice. What lay ahead, beyond the blizzard, was his destination; an old building where his training was to be next. He started off so typically, like any human being, with one foot after the other. He brought his hands up to his mouth every few feet or so to blow out warm air from his lungs. Nothing could soothe the bitterness that was cold surrounding Dante. His lack of attire, mismatched pajamas, was not fitting for this moment. As he continued onward, something was out of place. To his left, just barely a few inches from him, an ice sculpture appeared to be glaring him down. A beautiful woman carved in stone from a very ancient time. He gave the lady in ice one quick look and then continued towards the wind. The glare from the lady quickly turned into a crazed smile full of gritty teeth. She moved directly behind Dante and a brief tap was felt on his shoulder. He was struck but barely touched, more importantly he was dazzled from what hit him. He turned around to gaze into her ice cold sight, but she was gone. He moved about slowly, a sick undertone curled in the very pit of his stomach. Almost like an internal blizzard he turned into ice, although, the process was slow. First, the ice turned his gut into the cold, but he could still move. Dante paced forward to resist the change, but it was too late. Finally, the ice rushed from his feet upward, the process was near over. As his feet stuck to the ground, his body blended in with the cloudy day. With one final ounce of warmth he gave out a tremendous scream; the sound of a lion's roar was not far from the truth.
He hit his bed with a thunderous crack. He had awaken from a terrible dream. Sweat was spread throughout his body for all of the morning to see. Dante spoke upwards into the nothingness, "Rhea, my twin. Why dream about her. What does, whats does it mean." He spoke a faint name almost never uttered in good company. His sister, who at a time was to be born with him.
He hit his bed with a thunderous crack. He had awaken from a terrible dream. Sweat was spread throughout his body for all of the morning to see. Dante spoke upwards into the nothingness, "Rhea, my twin. Why dream about her. What does, whats does it mean." He spoke a faint name almost never uttered in good company. His sister, who at a time was to be born with him.
"If she is alive, I will find her. They will call soon. They must." In his mismatched pajamas, Dante carried himself past his bathroom and his reflection glared at him like always. He continued his strut outside, giving the mirror's reflection no more than a second glance.
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