Winter's Dead Bride

Prologue 1

Wednesday 14 November, morning, Land of Seven Winters.

I watched my younger sister die from the only thing that could save her.

I never thought that...that I'd become a murderer... She sank down to the snow-covered ground, her blue eyes now red with tears. Her pale and somehow wrinkling hand was reaching out for me as the blood dripped from her lips at each word spoken.

"H-how could you?"

That guilt that overtook me at that exact moment was horrible. It made my whole body ache.

"Y-you know t-that I'm a-allergic to peonies... I would have rathered to die from the virus than from my own sister's hands," she stuttered, her whole body shuddering.

I trembled and accepted the hand she let out, trying to do something to reassure her. The cold blood sped through my body in an instant. It alarmed me to feel my little sister lose her comfortable warmth. I glanced at her and she blinked back at me, frowning. This coldness felt familiar.

"Big sister...you're so cold," she accused, her breathing rapid as fumes of white smoke escaped past her chapped lips. "Just like the snow that was contaminated with this plague..."

She hoarsely coughed again, her reddened eyes shutting completely. She murmured something at her last breath.

"I hate you. You killed me and everyone else," she blamed. 

Then her breath stopped.

I let go of her frozen hand, her veins dangerously blue and no longer pumping blood. After all, it was me who froze it, me who took all of her heat and the beating of her vulnerable heart. And everyone else's. I was the criminal. The bearer of this destructive plague. Only at my death can peace and health be restored. That's the antidote.
I stretched, a sneer on my face. Then I began laughing and nothing could make me stop. She died on her birthday like she always wanted. She was the last.
The last bit of family.
I'm alone now and soon the whole world will be mine alone. My frosty heart that you can only be forced to hate... I killed my younger sister and my whole family, however, I'm not remorseful or ashamed for my actions.

After all, it was you who gave me my coldness.
I'm cold because of you, my friend.