Chapter 1: Chapter 1- Frida

The harsh winter wind whipped at poor little Frida's face as she trudged through the piles of snow that stretched further than the highest peaks of the Lenan mountains. Her tiny, bare feet grew number with every step she took on the empty streets of Andersendale. Tonight was the night of Nytër, and instead of joy and laughter filling the streets, they remained cold and empty for all, not just the young girl.

Ever since the dragon appeared, troubles arose in the land Frida called home. Nobody had any money, for it had all been stolen by the ferocious beast. She often saw troops of boys and girls who didn't look much older than her march off to Whitebear Peak with hopes of slaying the creature.

She had once come from an old family. She had once been a joyous and lively child; her bright blonde curls had once bounced and glowed in the golden sunshine. Frida covered her face with her arms as another gust of wind came hurdling at the poor child. The girl she had once been disappeared long ago when the beast first came. She looked and felt as though she were a washed-out portrait of herself. Her curls were damp and dead, and she never had a reason to smile anymore.

Frida forced herself to open her eyes. She could not afford to have them frozen shut again. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her ratty excuse for a coat, desperate for any kind of warmth. Her hand wrapped around the sad little box of matches that lay inside and a feeling of guilt rushed inside of her.

Don't come back until you sold every last one of those matches. Her father's voice yelled inside of her head. After what happened last time she failed to make a proper sale, Frida promised herself to never test him again. She couldn't go home tonight, but it made no difference, for at home she slept on the floor where she shivered throughout her sleepless nights.

She trudged into one of the many alleyways that were lined with the corpses of men, women, and children alike. If tonight had been any warmer, she could have used their bodies for warmth, but alas, they were as cold as bricks of ice. She found herself a nice spot in the corner of the alley by a rubbish bin.

She slowly sat down and shivered in the cold night. Her hands were slowly but surely turning shades of black and blue. Frida longed for the eves of the past, the ones where she'd sit by the fire with Nan and listen to her wonderful stories. That was when she got an idea.

Surely papa won't notice one's missing. She thought to herself as she slowly removed the box of matches from her coat pocket. She stuck it once against the wall. Twice. Then, on the third try, a beautiful orange flame erupted from the top of the tiny match.

She let the brief feeling of warmth dance all over her body. She let the tiniest trace of a smile grace her frozen face. The petite flame brought Frida back to a different time. At that moment, she was not sitting in the cold, smelly alley. She was instead sitting in front of a stove, just like the one her family used to own. It was quite large and made from Raian iron, with round, bronze knobs. Her hands felt as though they were warmed by a thousand embers. She wished for her feet to relieve the same luxury, but when she tried to take her feet into the warmth, the flame died. In just a matter of seconds, she found herself back in the alleyway.

Without thinking, Frida struck another match, this one lighting easier than the first. Expecting to find herself back at the stove, she was surprised to find herself sitting in a room in front of a candle. The table she sat at was covered in a long, white tablecloth that touched the floor. On the table sat food, oh glorious food! Potatoes, prunes, and even a stuffed roasted goose. The sight made her mouth water like mad. When she reached for the goose, he jumped from his plate. Frida stared as the goose waddled away and the candle went out. She was in the alley once more.

Frida lit another match. She couldn't let these beautiful sights die. She now saw herself on the ground, sitting underneath the most beautiful chandelier she had ever seen. Countless bright candles glowed on top of the shiniest crystals to ever exist. She tried to grab one, but then the chandelier went out like a light. She was in the alley for the third time, but the lights from the chandelier remained. They had turned into a sky full of dazzling stars. She stared in wonder as one passed by her, leaving a long tear in its path.

You know Frida, she heard her Nana's voice say to her. Every time a star cries, another fairy dies. Her Nana had been a tough but caring Raian woman. She was the only one who had truly loved poor Frida, but she, too was gone.

She struck herself another match, but this time something else happened. Instead of being taken somewhere new, the tiny orange flame had turned into her beloved Nana. 

"Nana!" The young girl cried. Just as quickly as it had lit, the match died out. Frida struck another match. And another one. "I won't let you vanish too." The young girl said as she lit another match.

And she didn't. With every match, her Nana grew brighter and brighter. Frida could see her so clearly! Her Nana's warm smile and caring, dark eyes. On her last match, Frida went in to hug her. Instead of the match dying, Nana returned her granddaughter's embrace with open arms. At that moment, Frida remembered all their memories together. Baking cookies together and hearing her stories were some of the best of her life.

Frida gave one last smile as her lifeless body went limp. The nearby clock tower chimed twelve times. It was a New Year, but no one in the Empire cried out "Bilj Nytër" or even noticed the poor frozen child.