This chapter has been edited and finalized.

Song: Snow [Machineheart]

Outside the palace walls, a storm was brewing.

Its winds lashed at the sleek, clean surface of the fiberglass windows and screamed as they tore through the banners decorating the gates - the flag of Arehlia, ripped to shreds. Sleet pelted the polished marble façade and drummed like coins on the roof. In the distance, lightning sliced through the black winter sky in a blinding flash of white; a short while after, the rumble of thunder came low and menacing. The clouds, dark with night, pulsed as they thrust their contents upon the earth. On the outskirts of the main city, the unpaved dirt roads turned to sticky brown mud, and the ground sucked at all of those who moved across its surface. Only those who could afford true homes were close to comfortable tonight; the poorest sections of Arehlia had no heating systems, and many would freeze.

But within the palace, all was well. Fires blazed in every hearth; warm air blasted through the rooms. In her quarters, safe behind noise-cancelling black curtains which she had covered in tasteful silver drapes, the princess slept without a sound, unaware of the tempest that raged only yards away. Her head, adorned with pins that kept her hair for the most part untangled, rested on an army of soft swan feather pillows and memory foam cushions, and one manicured hand lay limp beside her satiny pink cheek. Her body rested beneath a plush comforter that matched her drapes. It moved ever so slightly as she breathed.

Beside the bed was a large nightstand. On it stood an ornate, hand-carved lamp of a snowfox, which she had requested after a visit to the Haukana Mountain Range. Her clock - a small flat hologram - projected the time, weather, and palace temperature in equal alternating intervals, an object that was worth more than most of the kingdom's huts put together. Beside the hologram was a tablet that glowed like opals and played calming sleep music, and a sketch-filled notebook underneath a slew of pencils, charcoal, pastels, and pens. Though nowadays it was more efficient to draw and design digitally, the princess preferred the traditional methods of art. She had flipped it open to a page of the ocean, colored in shades of deep blue, under the dying fire of a setting sun. Dominating the image was a large grey-pink dolphin surging up out of the depths, side by side with its calf, which she'd slicked a glimmering ochre. It was a portrait of Rised - in the few days she had visited, she had fallen in love with the place.

The door opened with a resounding creak and a pale boy with chestnut-brown hair poked his head into the room. "Lumia?" he asked in a hushed voice. He'd barely whispered the word, but the incredible acoustics of the princess's arched ceiling caused it to sound like he was speaking in a voice a bit louder than normal. He flinched as a clap of thunder boomed past the princess's drapes and into the room. "Lumia, the storm scares me."

The princess shifted on her bed. "Hmmm?" she mumbled, wiping at her eyes. She blinked thrice, groggily, and her eyes adjusted to focus on the figure standing motionless just inside her quarters. "Henri, what are you doing?" She hoisted herself up onto one elbow. "It's past midnight. You should be asleep."

Henri glanced at her hologram, which flashed 2:16 a.m. in a kaleidoscope of colors that matched the tablet beside it, with a little crescent moon and Good Night, Princess Lumia in small lettering. As he watched, transfixed, it changed to Thunderstorm - Be Wary of Nearby Fire Hazards. He hugged himself. "I couldn't sleep," he said. His voice quavered and he squinted at the hologram's brightness. "The storm kept me up. You know I hate them."

Princess Lumia sighed. "Don't you have the curtains?"

Henri looked at her, helplessness shining in his gaze. "Mom had them taken for repair. Can I sleep in here?"

Lumia's eyes held his then transferred to the hologram, which displayed Palace Temperature is 72 F. Then she rolled over to the other side of her bed. "Climb on in, Henri," she murmured.

The princess consort was four years older than her brother, so he fit almost exactly in the curve from her waist to her neck, and she tucked herself around him, comforting him with her presence and the warmth of her body. Henri grabbed a pillow and stuck it under his ear, half of his face sinking into the soft swan down. "How come you get all the good stuff?" he asked, half-joking.

Princess Lumia smiled at him and kissed his forehead. "Because you are a prince, but I will be queen."

She watched Henri fondly as he nestled closer and sank into sleep, and as he began to snore with the gentleness of a hummingbird's wings, she let her eyes wander across the room. She stretched over Henri and grasped her sketchbook. "Hologram - dim light," she breathed. Her lamps glowed, casting long shadows across the floor.

Lumia glanced again at the dolphins, then flipped the page - a tropical bird resting its wings on a branch. Another flip - a bright orange salamander atop a wet grey rock - again - Henri grinning wildly with a blue butterfly perched on his finger - a frog on a lily pad, with fish gleaming in the waters' depths.

Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, painted a tranquil periwinkle, and back down again. Suddenly she stiffened. Was something glinting in her closet?

Two things.

Side by side.

Lumia's breathing sped up.

Those are eyes!

In the morning, Henri opened his eyes to find that the sun was halfway above the horizon, turning the sky a lovely hue of rosy aurum. All traces of storm-clouds had blown off, leaving the kingdom dripping and shaken but alive. The hologram clock read 8:32 a.m. - Good Morning, Princess Lumia! with a miniature sun. The notebook was gone.

Henri frowned. Lumia's notebooks never left her room. He scanned the room, noting a small scorch mark on the bedspread beside him, how her closet door had been thrown open and two pairs of shoes and a stunning red dress had been tossed sloppily out. Lumia would never let her chambers fall into such disarray.

On closer look, he saw that most of the clothes that hung up just the night before had disappeared. He squinted and drew his legs out from under the covers, shivering at the chill that lingered from Lumia's absence. The fabric of the remaining garments was ripped in some places. Fingers of ice raked down his spine. Something's not right. Everything's...gone. And when he read the note, hands trembling, he realized that so was she.

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OOOOOOO, suspense!

Snowfall here. This is (obviously) the prologue for Of Blood and Fire, and I've been cooking up this idea for a really long time. I hope you all like it. I also hope you don't mind rotating POV, or else I suggest perhaps not reading this. Hold onto your seats, readers. You're in for an emotional rollercoaster with this one.

Also, if you all have any suggestions for improving the chapters, tell me in the comments! Frankly I've never really gotten any, in my entire life, but I would love to take the time to read all of them. Constructive criticism is how I can get a feel for what you like and don't like. Don't be afraid to ask! If your question somehow concerns what happens later in the book, I will DM you so that it's not spoiled for the other people in the comments.

IMPORTANT - The next chapter HAS been rewritten and edited. Please continue onward!

Bye guys! Snowfall out!