"H-How did you...?"

The stranger gazed down upon Wynter with eyes of a smoky grey colour full of mischief and mystery. His pale face seemed white as the snow outside and he stood with one corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk that made Wynter feel for some reason uneasy. She pushed herself off the floor, dusting the dirt from her knees and dress all the while keeping her eyes upon the young man who stood tall in front of her open window.

Open window.

"Shut it!" she hissed. "The window needs to be shut!"

And yet the boy did not seem to share in her alarm, he gave little more than a shrug in response. Wynter moved hastily forward.

"It doesn't matter anymore." He said softly. Wynter stared in disbelief as he held up a gloved hand to stop her from passing.

"You have already been seen. The Guards are not quick to forget the face of an intruder, especially having that you escaped."

"What do you mean? Who are the Guards?"

Somewhere above there was movement. Wynter froze, listening intently. She may be safe now but if she was caught...
The stranger watched her with an air of curiosity.

"I've already said too much," he whispered catching on to the problem. "That is dangerous information."

"Then who are you?"

A pained sort of smile seemed to spread across his face as he dropped his head, jet black strands of hair fell into his eyes.

"That too is dangerous information."

"Then what will you do to help me?" Wynter sighed exasperated. The sound of footsteps was fast approaching down the hall. The stranger's hands moved swiftly, too fast for Wynter's eyes to follow. He seemed to produce a neatly folded sheet of paper from thin air.

"Here," he whispered holding it out to her as the sound of another person reached the door. "Take it. Just make it through the night."

Wynter's heart pounded against her chest as the door to her room was furiously knocked upon. A thousand questions sprang to her lips as she took hold of the page, but no words seemed to come. She looked down upon the paper just as the door behind her burst open.

"But I-"

"What is this?" came the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Archer. Wynter spun to meet her, scrunching the paper into a ball so it was hidden from view inside her fist. Mrs. Archer was a stout woman with an angry red face. Her glasses were now askew, her greying hair tied into a tight bun. Her eyes moved between Wynter and the open window and as realisation dawned upon her, Mrs. Archer's mouth dropped.

"CLOSE IT!" she screeched.

Wynter's entire body seemed to shake as she turned again to the window. The stranger was gone, silent as the wind. Her surprise made her hesitate; she longed to peer out to into the night to see if he was there. Behind her Mrs. Archer clicked her tongue impatiently.

"Move, silly girl!" Mrs. Archer pushed Wynter roughly aside and pulled the windows shut, the wispy stained curtains were slid together to block out the night. A pause hung in the seconds that passed, one of tension in which Wynter watched as Mrs. Archer's lip trembled in anger.

"What," she eventually said, "were you thinking?"

Wynter had no time to answer before Mrs. Archer spoke again, her voice raising with every syllable uttered.

"You foolish, irresponsible girl! You have broken our most crucial rule, and why? Do you think yourself to be funny, girl? Oh, the danger you have put all of us into tonight! Who knows what could have happened, what will happen? You cannot stay here, you should not-"

And then a sort of malicious pleasure sparked in Mrs. Archer's wild eyes as she glared at Wynter and suddenly became very silent. Her mind was ticking away, deciding upon Wynter's fate. Wynter could do nothing but wait for the inevitable. When Mrs. Archer next spoke her voice had become softer, almost excitable.

"Do you know what this means?" she sneered, but Wynter had already guessed.

A twisted smile played at the corners of her mouth and it became clear that Mrs. Archer was about to say the words she had longed to say for so long.

And then it came.

"You are out of here! You are leaving! I do not care where you go, but you are leaving!"

Her face was full of glee as she spoke and Wynter felt her heart drop.

"Please," she whispered in a voice that was barely audible. "I have nowhere to go, anything could happen-"

"You have brought this upon yourself!"

Wynter shook her head. "You don't understand! I haven't-"

Mrs. Archer cut her off with the wave of a hand. There was some commotion overhead, floorboards creaked and sleepy voices drifted to the room beneath where Wynter stood facing the formidable woman that threatened to rob her of her only home. If anyone else found out what had happened it would not just be Wynter who would be in trouble.

"Mrs. Archer," Wynter said as calmly as possible. "You will be safe only as long as this remains a secret. If word gets out-"

"You will not threaten me," she retorted angrily. "I will do anything to protect these children, and that means letting you go." Mrs. Archer moved swiftly to the door and placed a hand upon its handle. "Pack your things and be gone by morning. You will not speak a word of this to anyone, and," she sighed heavily, "nor will I."

A small voice trailed down the hall outside making them both jump.

"Mrs. Archer?" It called sluggishly.

She tugged the door open.

"Back to bed, now!"

Wynter watched as a sliver of light upon the hallway floor retreated with the closing of a door. Mrs. Archer then turned to face Wynter again without a trace of the humour she had felt just seconds before.

"You will be forced to leave this town if anyone finds out, as will I," she muttered. "As the owner of this establishment it is my duty to ensure the safety of those within, and I may have failed tonight," she raised a finger to point at Wynter, "because of you." Mrs. Archer stepped out into the hall before speaking again, her voice full of loathing.

"Leave this building," she said, "and don't come back. I won't speak of this because then I would be forced out too. At least this way we can both stay in Journeys End."

The door of Wynter's room began to close as she moved away.

"A bittersweet ending it is."

Then Wynter was alone. Her mind screamed with words she was too stunned to speak, her fists were shaking as was her breathing. The tears came before she could stop them and Wynter fell to her knees. Her whole world had changed in a matter of hours, the horrors she had seen this night could never be forgotten for as long as she lived.

Though that may not be very long at all.

'Relax.' She told herself. 'Just relax.'

Slowly as Wynter's breathing became more steady she was able to really consider her situation. The hum of the ceiling lights overheard was familiar, calming. The light it provided shone with a warm yellow glow that kept the darkness of the night and the monsters it concealed away. Wynter breathed in the same pleasant yet inexplicable odour that had filled her room for all the years she had been here at the orphanage; it was like lavender, but something more, something sweeter.

Weariness had made her forget the scrunched-up sheet of paper that had been held tightly in her grasp until she had dropped it. With careful fingers Wynter plucked the crinkled sheet from the ground and unfurled the page, her eyes searched the yellowed parchment for any explanation that she could find, and there she found words appearing before her very eyes in beautiful swirling font of the darkest ink. She held the page up to the light and read:

'The night is darkest at the hour of twelve,
with it come the souls of the damned and forgotten from a world that is not our own.

They shall claim the lost and vulnerable who wander through the nights so innocently. These do not know the dangers of the Midnight Guard, nor will they until they become that which now possesses them body and soul.

To the world of the living these lost and vulnerable shall never return but to the lands of fire and eternal darkness they are bound forevermore.

Yet we are joined, one world within another for as long as both shall exist;
the dark and the light forever and always.'

The last line of the note was written in something more like blood than ink. Red dots speckled the page and stained Wynter's fingertips, though she didn't let go. Some other words were there too, barely visible...

Wynter turned the sheet.

This message had been written in a much messier fashion that that on the overleaf. It was as follows:

'The mountains are not as dangerous as you may think, here there is hope.'

The mountains.

From beneath her bed, Wynter pulled the only items of interest to her. A diary that had been her father's, old photographs. She placed them into another of her woven baskets, the last one she had.
From the old wooden wardrobe she pulled the cloak that her uncle had bought for her years before. It had been much too big for her then this long emerald cloak that had been much too expensive, though he had insisted upon buying her one nice thing for when she was older, and she as a child had picked this.

Wynter circled the room that was no longer her own. Exhaustion began to take control of her, Wynter felt her eyelids droop. There were still some hours until sunrise and sleep would prepare her for the journey ahead. Placing her items beside the door Wynter then fell into her bed for the last time. The light remained bright above her head. She was sure that sleep would not come tonight but in little or no time at all, her eyes were closed.

*

Journeys End; a town of snow and ice forevermore. The cold was something you got used to, the nights were worse than the days of course, but for those living in the small and strange town it had simply become what they were used to. Most bedrooms had fires anyway but for those so used to the cold as the inhabitants of Journeys End they were rarely used.

Tonight however was a new kind of cold.

It was freezing.

Wynter opened her eyes. The room was dark though she was sure she had left the lights on before falling asleep.

Had the whole night been a dream?

No.

Slowly Wynter pushed herself into a sitting position and locked her cold arms around her legs. Beside her the curtains gently fluttered in the light and icy breeze that came from the windows. Wynter felt her eyes widen in fear. She watched as her breath turned to fog in the shadowy room and turned slowly to face the window.

It was open.

She could not move. Fear held her in place and as Wynter squinted frantically into the dark she heard rustling from the corners of the room. There it was again.

The red light.

A shadow rose like mist from the darkest corner of the room and crept slowly along the walls and ceiling. Wynter could have sworn she heard it whisper to her. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she stared, frozen in place. The shadows grew until they surrounded her, fluttered through her hair and entwined around her limbs and around her neck.

She was trapped, choking, helpless.

And yet she felt nothing.

Through the panic, Wynter found she could in fact move. Quick as a flash she threw herself across the room, fumbling for the light switch on the wall until with a click, light returned to fill the space. Her hand rose to feel her throat. Nothing. The shadows were gone. Had they even been real? Wynter ran to the windows and pulled them shut. Outside she saw that light was beginning to come to the world as a new day begun. She breathed out a sigh of relief. With the daylight there was surely safety. She had made it through the night, just about. The uneasy sleep had not brought her much strength however. With a stifled yawn, Wynter picked up her belongings and left the room. There was not much point in hanging about any longer.

The hallway brought some warmth but Wynter still pulled the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it at the neck. She ambled down the spiral staircase taking in her surroundings slowly for the final time as a pang of sadness overcame her. Noise from the kitchens told her that it was almost time for breakfast; it was later than she had thought. The huge double entrance doors would be locked now. From the small wall cabinet Wynter pulled a set of keys. She unlocked the door and took a deep breath.

Her journey was just beginning.

"Where are you off to so early?

The voice came from behind her, familiar and joyful. Wynter turned to meet a smile though she could barely manage one in response. The orphanage head chef was a tall balding man with a lined face, one of smiles and laughter.

"I'm leaving." Wynter swallowed hard against the tears. She had hoped to meet no one on her way out, saying goodbye was too difficult.

Though Chef seemed to misinterpret her, probably for the best.

"Off for the day, I see. Well perhaps you would like something to bring with you?"

Wynter left the orphanage with a basket full of fresh fruit and bread. She was thankful, food had been the last thing on her mind but perhaps it was just the boost she needed.

People had already begun to move from their houses and out into the long cobbled street of Journeys End, the one that was familiar to Wynter she was relieved to see. She set off in the opposite direction, toward the back of the town.

Toward the mountains.

Looking ahead they seemed taller than ever, more reproachful than ever. Yet she had no other option.

'The mountains are not as dangerous as you may think, here there is hope.'

And so began the climb.