For many years there had been a story shared among the children of Journeys End, one that had caused most of their youthful and innocent eyes to grow wide with fright as they listened intently, unable to pull themselves away. The parents had of course always been there to reassure the young that there was no truth to such tales, it was only a story after all, the same story those parents had heard as children, though over time it had of course suffered some alterations.

As Midnight came to settle over the old town of Journeys End and all the lights grew dim, one was said to appear bright upon the mountains. If one were bold enough to look out into the night they would see this light, the ominous pale glow that came from a haunted ruin perched upon the highest peak of the icy mountains. From there anyone within could see the entire town beneath, every building and every person. It was said to have been an evil spirit that watched over Journeys End by night from within the walls of this ruin, but if one was caught to be watching him from the town beneath, the evil spirit would, as the children shouted; "get you!"

Funnily enough it was this that carried Wynter forward; a child's story. She hoped to find the ruin they spoke of and within it the mysterious stranger who had vanished from her room so suddenly and into the darkness. It was madness, but she could think of nothing else.

Wynter's breathing had become more laboured as the day wore on, her supplies were running low. All around her was serene silence but for the breathing of the frost-bitten wind. The sun shone without warmth, but Wynter had grown quite accustomed to the cold, it didn't bring her any discomfort and as long as it remained bright she would be safe. The mountains however were terribly steep and a small part of Wynter feared they would get the better of her soon enough.

Wynter now sat upon a narrow ledge halfway up the mountain where she was crouched, slowly munching on an apple. The town beneath her looked minuscule like a child's toy set. The people were nothing more than moving dots upon the ground, like ants scuttling about their work. Few had seen her enter the mountain pass and none had attempted to stop her. That was one of the good things about the people here, they minded their own business. Though it was truly a flaw just as much as it was a quality, it was the reason Journeys End had been so shrouded in mystery for so long. Wynter's fingers were numb around the apple core; she tossed it aside and watched it fall fast and silent down the sheer mountain face. It reminded her of the dream she had dreamt only hours before while sitting by the white fence, the one in which she had fallen from this very mountain as it had crumbled beneath her. She shuddered.

Just a dream.

Wynter rose to her feet cautiously and picked her basket from the snow, it was much lighter now. She began to slowly follow her perilous path once again. The ice was what made the journey dangerous, it hid beneath the snow and waited for unfortunate feet to slip upon impact, and then in this case, ultimately fall to their deaths. Wynter nimbly moved forward and tried her best to not look down, only straight ahead.

Though this was easier said than done.

*

Twilight had set in as Wynter neared the mountain peak. She had suffered many cuts and scratches from the icy needles that had covered her path and she was exhausted from walking. Wynter gritted her teeth against the stinging pain as her leg once again brushed the frozen nails of the mountain. She was walking sideways now, her hands were held high to clutch at the rocks above as she moved, supporting her body weight. Suddenly a rock came loose and crashed down beneath her. Wynter held on tight to the mountain with one hand. She breathed in and out, calmly as possible. She found another to cling onto; it felt secure beneath her shaky hand. With a final push Wynter hoisted herself up and onto the flat land above.

She had made it.

She skimmed the area with tired eyes, searching for a sign or anything that could help.  And there it was. Wynter's heart skipped a beat.

It was the ruin.

There it sat in the distance within a flurry of snow.

She started forward but stopped almost as soon as she set off feeling a hesitation inside of herself. What if it was just any old ruin? Wynter bit her lip anxiously. Daylight was fading rapidly and she would need to find shelter before dark. All around her was white fluffy snow untainted and untouched. No footprint spoiled the land and Wynter felt she was more alone than ever. The still sky above was splattered with colours; shimmering pinks and royal blues that spread across the air like a watercolour painting done by the skilled hand of an artist's brushstrokes.

Wynter walked on.

*

The darkness was closing in and Wynter was running, heart racing. She arrived before the splintered wooden door of the ruin just as the world became black once again. Its hinges were rusted, worn and she pushed it open easily. Wynter stepped inside and pulled what remained of the door shut behind her. Where she stood was dark, as dark as the outside. By the light of the moon she could make out layers of dust that had gathered over years of neglect upon the floor, the windowsills, the grand staircase banister. The musty smell made it hard to breathe. Wynter walked upon the creaking floorboards and came to the bottom of the stairs. She placed a hand on the banister uncertainty. Spots of light came from the sky and crept through the cracks in the ceiling to light her way, but above Wynter could see another light bloom. It was artificial, perhaps a lamp, that came from upstairs. Wynter walked towards it. She had suddenly become very aware of how vulnerable she was; she was just a thin young girl with nothing to defend herself with, and nowhere to hide.

But it was too late to turn back now.

Wynter had reached the top of the stairs. She looked around, frightened and unsure. The flickering light came from the left, to her right there was nothing but a dark and narrow hallway. Wynter moved swiftly towards the light. Wynter's heart thudded against her chest causing her to feel light-headed. Every sound put her on edge, those from outside even more so.

What if the Guards were here too?

An open door at the end of the hall showed Wynter the source of the light. She peered inside the room. An oil-lamp sat upon a dusty stone table in the corner of the room, colourless paint peeled from the walls to show signs of decay and rot beneath and the floor was dirty, only half of it was covered by a torn and stained carpet. Wynter tiptoed into the room as quiet as she could. Books littered the floor; she picked one up and moved to stand beside the light, though it didn't help. The yellowed and faded book had been written in another language long ago. Wynter lost herself for a moment as she flicked through the pages. It had been a beautiful book once upon a time.

She was unaware of the hooded figure who watched her from across the room. They watched Wynter with a small smile. She had appeared a young and frightened girl before, but not now.

She was brave.

Or maybe just naive.

"I didn't think you would make it," the figure said after some time. Wynter jumped violently and dropped the book. She turned to stare wide-eyed at the speaker who remained crouched in the shadows.

"Is it you?" she gasped. "You told me to come here?"

"I didn't tell you to come here; I merely put the idea in your mind." The stranger stood. "I must admit however, I really doubted that you would actually come."

The stranger pulled the hood away to expose his face. It was a young face and yet Wynter felt his grey eyes and soul were old. They held many memories.

She went to speak but he beat her to it.

"What is your name?" he asked. She hesitated before giving an answer, unsure as to whether or not she could trust this person. Yet, he was as of now her only hope of staying alive.

"Wynter Rhodes."

"Wynter," he mused, "Like the very season we are in now."

She nodded slowly.

"And your name?" she asked.

The stranger seemed to consider her for a moment. Some battle seemed to rage in his mind and for a fleeting second Wynter feared he would leave her again.
He did not. Instead the stranger held out a gloved hand to her.

"Eiran."

Wynter took the hand in her own and shook it briefly.

"What's happening?" she asked releasing his hand. Eiran sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. He cast his eyes toward the one window in the room and looked outside.

"So much is happening, Wynter." he murmured. Eiran looked at her then so intensely that Wynter felt herself flush, though she held his gaze.

"Will you sit down?"

He gestured towards an unsteady looking chair that sat against the rotting wall.

Wynter sat.

"There are explanations and answers to all the questions I am sure you have," he said pulling up a chair and sitting to face her. "Where would you like me to begin?"

Wynter fumbled with the hem of her dress anxiously and tried to think.

"Well, I suppose..." she trailed off. There was too much to ask, but what was the most important question she had? She couldn't even remember. Eiran watched her as she thought, waiting patiently.

"What are those things?" Wynter eventually whispered as though someone else was listening. "The Guards you talked about?"

Eiran's eyes seemed to flash dangerously at the mention of the Guards and Wynter spoke again before she could stop herself.

"Are they after you too?" she blurted. "Are you one of them?"

Wynter froze expecting a heated reply, but instead Eiran chuckled bitterly.

"Are they after me?" he responded, "Yes to tell you the truth, they have been for a long time now. And to answer your other question no, I'm not." Eiran pulled the white gloves from his slender hands. "Not yet anyway."

Wynter wasn't if he was talking to himself or to her with that comment. She frowned confused, but he ignored it.

"The Guards," he went on, "are watchers of the other-world. Within Journeys End is a crack invisible to the human eye through which the other-world can move between our lands and their own. They only do so however at night, hence The Midnight Rule."

Eiran stood and began to pace slowly about the room. Wynter remained silent and followed him with alert eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"This other-world was once part of our own. Humans and their kind shared the same lands until dishonesty and conflict tore them apart, quite literally. With dark magic a new world was made in the likeness of this one, only it was all wrong. It was sinister and dark, a place for monsters. The humans turned a blind eye to this problem, they no longer cared about the Guards and their people, and now we still suffer the consequences. Every night at the hour of twelve in Journeys End our two worlds collide. The Guards are those chosen to come through the veil and into the human world, their job is to steal pure souls and drag them back to the other-world. It is revenge for our ignorance all them centuries ago. They can only operate in the dark outdoors however, where there is light the Guards cannot go and so that is why The Midnight Rule was created. It is to ensure that everybody here remains safe."

"Why does nobody know about this?" Wynter asked exasperated.

Eiran sighed again and returned to his seat.

"It's easier this way," he replied slowly. "There is no terror or confusion among the people, no fools stay outside at night to challenge the Guards who they would have no chance against. And still every now and again, someone like you sits in this very situation, only most don't make it this far."

Wynter felt the fear begin build inside her again. With each gust of wind the entire ruin seemed to shake, she hugged her arms, not cold but afraid.

"And what can I do?" she asked desperately.

"You," Eiran began, "are exactly what I have been waiting for. It wasn't by chance that I was there to save you last night. Most people caught outside don't even try to run from the Guards, you were the first to escape them." Eiran moved closer to her, his urgent eyes bright. "I have an idea, but in order for it to succeed there is a part you must play. I cannot guarantee your safety but it is your best chance."

Wynter looked at him with eyes full of uncertainty. She didn't even know Eiran; he was still a stranger to her. And yet she wanted to trust him, if he had gone this long without being captured by the Guards surely he was her best hope.

"Okay," she said finally. "What do I-"

A sudden noise cut Wynter off, the ticking of a clock. Only this ticking was shrouded in horrible whispering voices.

"I do believe," Eiran whispered while rising, "you were followed."

Wynter gasped and jumped to her feet. Eiran took hold of her hand calmly.

"Follow me," he murmured. "Quickly!"