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She appears with the ice cold wind and snow, comepleting the cycle and remaining the balance. They say the hair around her face and tumbling down her back is like ice. They say it’s white and there’s something about the way it moves. They say her eyes are the most pristine shade of grey. She comes with the cold to guide those spirits who have lost their way to the frost.

Most often, she brings death, but more than that, she brings peace, if only for a while. And there she stands, by that large tree, her dark hand running patterns on the coarse bark. She’s contemplating. She’s remembering, and her breath hangs in the air- a warning and beginning of Kepay.

A slow hum swells from her, from everywhere, from the tree which is Everywhere.

And there you are, seeing what is not meant to be seen. Seeing the creation of Everything, of More than Everything, seeing Nothing grow and shrink, seeing the goddess perform her intricate dance of Balance. It’s a very sweet thing, to see such nature the way it hasn’t been seen before, but it hurts too. It’s so lovely, you think, that it physically hurts. And you can’t help what comes next. You grunt out in pain that stings magnificently- in happiness- and She sees you. She sees you, and her gracious face is not a kind one. She is deadly beautiful, in that order, and you have seen what should not be seen by even the most religiously devout, let a lone a mere mortal as yourself. Yes, she is deadly beautiful, like a lake frozen, so that the top layer is ice. Only you don’t know how thick the ice is, so you stay safely to the side, on the shore, admiring it. Except of course that now you have stepped on the ice and it has cracked.

"You’re not supposed to die yet, but that can be easily arranged." You don’t back away; she’s so mesmerizing, how could you back away now? She begins to walk toward you, slowly, steadily and with such grace. She glides through the frost in the air surrounding her. The air around you chills gradually. "Are you lost?" she asks, her voice crisp and musical.

"N-no," you stutter out like a bird with out a wing. "I, yes, actually yes, I am, actually, yes, I’m lost, I’m-" you can’t help the babble of words that escape your mouth like the bubbles from brook. And then, despite all the absurdity, you mind onlyc omes up with one question: why isn’t she cold?

And then… nothing. For a fraction of time everything is gone. You wake up in your bed, the window had been left open. You wonder why the window was open, its so cold outside. When you tell them in the morning they laugh at you because of course there aren’t any gods. But you don’t quite believe that. To you gods are the thing that haunt your dreams regularly, things that cause the happiness and misery in your life, the things that took your sister away from you. You wince from the memories of finding your sister. Cold. Unmoving. Dead. Granpa notices you and walks over to tell you something. But he doesn’t say anything but hugs you, and slips something in your pocket. hat is it you think and look at him and see him smile. What is it grandpa you try to ask but see he is ….. across the room ? How did he get there? No one seemed to notice. Odd.

You try to check your pocket but before you could grandpa starts a story. No way you’re missing out on granpa’s stories. Funny thing is is the timing. Grandpa doesn’t usually start story time early. Even the grownups are surprised by grandpa’s unusuall behavior. Something is definetly not right. He starts a story about the Kepay.

But the other grownups stop him. They say that this silly story will only frighten the children. What could Kepay be?

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