If you had asked Lifo how much he cared for his “family”, he would have chattered on for hours, listing every little thing he loved about everyone in his life. Though he may have been an orphan for as long as he could remember (which was not very long), the little eight year old found his solace in everyone else in his town. Running down the cobblestone streets, the houses built in a European medieval style, and the snow that draped over all things.

This was his life in the far north. He wasn’t old enough to know of The Collapse, but those older than him regaled him sometimes of a tragic tale; all from different perspectives, but outlining the same basic plot every single time. Sometimes he stayed up late, later than anyone else, watching the stars in the night sky on clear evenings. He dreamt of cars, of stoplights, of computers in every house and phones in every pocket. He dreamt of the biggest book in the world small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. He dreamt of planes, roaring through endless clouds, and what he imagined a thriving metropolis would look like.

It was far too late for all of that now, though. Here, where things lurked in the blinding white of every blizzard, there was no magic. The townspeople all loved Lifo, a light of innocence in times so trying. Thus they all felt the need to tell him the same thing.

“You can’t, Lifo.”

“You know it is dangerous out there!”

“I’m sorry.”

None of them could or would take him far beyond the walls, to places unknown. For too long they had remained in isolation, fearful of the dangerous world on the outside. And they were not wrong! Few left the safety of this little kingdom that rested so far away that no one outside knew of its existence. None returned. Eventually, people stopped leaving, and everyone grew content with their peaceful existence. Casualties from defense of the town were slowly dropping with every passing year, and many were confident “The Fog” would not be able to ever terrorize the town again.

He wouldn’t stand for that. To him, the world was his sandbox. There was nowhere he could not go, nothing he wouldn’t be able to reach. Everyone else, even the Empowered in his little village, all too scared to roam the outside, fearful of what they would encounter. But they didn’t know Lifo fully, understanding what he was capable of. A few seconds later, he slipped into the shade of the buildings, his presence disappearing in totality. All eyes drew away from him on instinct, everyone nearby suddenly unable to grasp that Lifo was right in front of them. This was his favorite thing to do. The people knew he was special, blessed with Empowerment, but he had never told anyone what his ability was.

[Newsboy] was what he called it. One of his many grandpa’s grandpa had been one many many years ago. Apparently it was an easy going job, as he had flicked from house to house nearly unnoticed, another object in the background. When he put on the wool newsboy cap, he had been invisible, or so a village elder had told him. What a perfect word to describe Lifo, a ghost of Icetown.

It was night now, and he had a habit of entering stealth to wander the empty streets unhindered. Only sparse lamps provided him with light, and he curiously ran down back alleys and leapt over low fences, a little ninja in his own playbox. And that was how Lifo lived his life. Nothing more than a wandering child, friend of all Icetown. Tonight, that monotony broke.

When he heard the rustling, he first thought it was some small animal. Perhaps a lost fox, slipping through the gate. A bird, pecking at trash. Even a raccoon hungry for scraps. Instead he was met with the sight of a little child, one who looked the same age as him. Long tangled hair reached to the ground as they crouched in the darkness, hiding in the tiny space between a dumpster and a trash can. He drew closer, slowly making out their features. They had thin limbs, to the point of malnutrition, and torn clothing that dangled from their sticklike frame.

The eyes. Their head turned, and their eyes pierced through the matted mess of hair to meet his own. Lifo nearly stumbled backward, believing himself invisible to everything. How could he be seen? Was his power imperfect somehow? Now that he got a good look at the kid, he instantly could tell that they were new. This was a tight knit community, and he knew everyone and everyone knew him. In a world of constants, this child was a variable.

The voice came to him, a tired whisper on the gentle night time breeze.

“I can see you.”

The jig was up. Reluctantly, he let his energy fade from his body, revealing a healthy juvenile clad in woolen clothes, green and brown. His first words left his mouth before he even thought them.

“How’d you see me?”

“You have a power. I can feel it when you use it.”

That was definitely new. Not two lines in and he was already humbled by the stranger’s knowledge of his power. Normal people shouldn’t be able to sense something like that though.

“What’s your power then?”

“I don’t know. I can do a lot of things.”

The child peeked out from behind the dumpster and placed both palms on the cobble pathway. In the blink of an eye, it morphed, as a few letters became engraved in one of the smaller stones. Lifo read them out loud.

“Pee are eye emm? Chasma? Is that your name?”

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“I don’t know. Everyone calls me Lifo, but I don’t know if that was my name when I was born.”

The letters on the ground morphed again, into L-I-F-O. It was mesmerizing to observe how the stone seemingly bent and melted like molten metal, only to draw together into specific shapes as if it were molded. Lifo bent down, feeling each groove that represented his name with an index finger.

“Your power is drawing stuff?”

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“I can… shape things. Make things too.”

Air collected in one of Chasma’s palms, concentrating and compressing into a little marble. Nearly invisible, the only indication of its existence was a thin, dark outline that gave it the appearance of a pen-drawn circle. They tossed it up into the air, letting it float slowly downwards back into their palm.

“Wow… can I have that?”

Chasma began to slink away, easily camouflaging in even the smallest pockets of shadow.

“I’m… busy. I need something, so I can’t play.”

It was surprising that the whole block wasn’t lit up with a glow brighter than the sun, given just how radiant Lifo’s face appeared to be.

“I could help you! I know everywhere in the city! Like the back of my hand, or so one of my grandpas said.”

That was when Chasma spotted an opportunity. Someone sneaky would be unexpectedly helpful for the objective…

“You know, there is one thing you can help me with.”

“Anything for a friend!”

Chasma froze in place, leaning against a wall as they peeked around a corner to watch for any peacekeepers or others. That was a new word. It tasted unfamiliar to them, like sweet candy, with a note of sourness. Despite the strangeness of new stimuli, it was more than a little addicting. A word that lingered on the tongue, hesitantly gifted to those you trusted.

“A friend,” replied Chasma. For a second they were almost exposed to the world by the word, but just as quickly the steel doors slammed shut, and they were normal again.

“A friend!” came Lifo’s unflinching voice. His singsong demeanor would not be penetrated by mere half hearted responses. To be an orphan was to be resilient, and he was, in more ways than one.

“Have you ever been in the palace?”

He paused at that. The palace was a no-go zone to most people; only the most lucky would be allowed inside, for purposes unknown to the rest of the populace. The guards had told him no one was to be allowed inside, or else. The glint in their eyes, so unfamiliarly hostile, reminded him of something he would rather not touch. So Lifo never ventured into the icy castle.

“I don’t know anyone who has been inside. Anyone who has won’t tell me about it.”

“Can you get inside? I know where to go, but I don’t think I’m sneaky enough.”

Dirt and dust became parchment and ink, turning into a rough but interpretable map. A scribbled layout of the first layer of the castle came into view, a series of hallways and chambers arrayed in strange and unpredictable ways. Paths appeared to lead in all directions, except towards the center. There seemed to be only one path that led in a winding route to the core of the palace, where one would then descend into an unknown area. Lifo studied it in confusion.

“How’d you get a map of the castle?”

“Magic.”

They really said that to him with a straight face. He was almost inclined to believe it, with how serious they looked. Rolling up the map and carefully putting it in his pocket without crumpling it, he met the eyes of someone he would surely never, ever forget.

“I can try. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Trying is already enough.”

So Lifo went to perform this task assigned to him; a little call to adventure, something he had never had before in the confines of the walls circling his town. Buildings slowly grew more packed and numerous as he drew closer to the center, homes stacked on each other leaving little space for alleyways in between. The natural chill of the tundra was slowly overpowered by a different kind of cold; it seeped into his skin, his flesh, into his very bones.

He felt awe as he approached the gate, shuffling along slowly in a most inconspicuous manner. Here, the ground became cold and slippery. Dirt and stone intermingled with ice, and only the hardiest of flora could thrive in the harsh conditions here. Large statues of icy knights exerted some unknown pressure on passerby. No one dared approach. The ruler of the town was one little known, and to be part of the elite who lived in the proverbial ivory tower granted one a certain level of prestige none could match.

There were no actual humans at the gate, so slipping in was the easy part. Climbing in through an open window was a little harder, as the walls were some kind of combination of ice and stone brick that made it tough to grip. The room he climbed into turned out to be some kind of storage room. Barrels and shelves of prepackaged foodstuffs lined the walls and left little room to walk. He creaked the door open just a bit, scanning the hallways for anyone. All eerily empty.

Rather than walking, it felt more like he was sliding down the hallway. The map thankfully was a near perfect recreation of the palace interior. It was simple keeping his head down and meandering past the occasional pair of guards chatting to each other as they strolled along their designated patrol routes. His power, though little developed, worked like a charm. Functionally, he did not exist to the world.

“I heard that the big men upstairs are looking to hitch a deal.”

“Another expeditionary force? No one ever comes back alive from those.”

“They say things are gonna change though… Hopefully for the better.”

Lifo caught snippets of conversation as he walked past any number of people, and some piqued his interest. Regardless, he pushed on. What kind of friend leaves a pal hanging? As he drew closer to the core of the castle, the number of guards grew in frequency. Soon he was squeezing past beefy adults in full plate. He briefly wondered what guards looked like in the past, before the world became dust.

Careful, he thought. Navigating around countless numbers of men and women, eyes keen to find any intruder, really took a toll on his nerves. His Empowerment thrummed through his limbs, his chest, his head. The cold was especially freezing here, and only the heat of the moment kept the chill away. Descending down the stairs into the basement brought him a little reprieve, as everyone avoided it unilaterally. Some kind of forbidden zone.

The stairs went on forever. His legs grew heavy with exertion, and his breath became labored. If there was anyone who dared to climb down, they might have heard his desperate gasps for air. But eventually there had to be a bottom, and he was not expecting what he found waiting at the end of the staircase.

A completely empty room. Or, it would have been, if not for the pedestal with a singular item resting on it. It was kind of oppressive, actually. The atmosphere in the room was a blanket of concrete, or a stifling field of smoke. Stepping forward with abundant caution was a necessity. Approaching gave him a clearer view of his target, marked with a clear and obvious (X) and a “HERE!!!” on the map. It didn’t look particularly special. Just a little white cube that glowed softly. A glass case covered it, presumably to act as a display case.

With a steady hand and pristine concentration, Lifo slowly lifted the glass top off of the case, delicately picking up the cube in two fingers. At point blank range, he could feel the strength emanating from the tiny block. For a moment he had a strange thought in his mind.

Eat.

The idea disappeared as quickly as it had overtaken him, and he slipped the mysterious item into a pocket. When he came up the stairs though, he quickly heard the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing off the frozen stone walls. He pressed himself against the outer wall of the circular staircase, just in time for a group of guards to come charging down. Apparently their fear of what lay down here had been suddenly broken, as yelling quickly filled his ears.

Reaching the top showed him the consequences of his actions. The ice was receding; slowly, the palace was returning to normal. While the frost could not be wiped away wholly, its influence had clearly dissipated substantially. In their haste, the guards crowded around the center zone, hoping to snag the thief in the act. Lifo was already gone, sprinting down corridors and leaping out a window into the courtyard.

“Hey! Who’s there?”

An authoritative voice called out from the dark of the night, a lantern shining in the darkness. A glint told Lifo of a sword and shield strapped securely to armor. Definitely did not want to meet the business end of that knight’s blade. In the cover of night, it was all too easy to give him the slip, disappearing into the dark.

Chasma was right where he left them when he came back. A tiny hut of wood and dirt had coalesced into something of a shack to keep out the elements. Rocks and stones surrounded it in a circle like some kind of ward.

“I’m back.”

“Fast. Only two hours, 14 minutes.”

Weird. There were no clocks here. How’d they know the time? Regardless, he withdrew the cube from his pockets, holding it up to the illumination of a nearby streetlight. In a flash, Chasma snatched it from his hands, clutching it in both hands. The natural presence of the block was muted between their palms, and after a few seconds, a black cloud washed over their hands and promptly vanished. They brought their hands apart, presenting to Lifo the cube again.

This time it had lines of black running through it, and it emanated smoke from every surface. He beheld it for a second, before he realized why Chasma was standing there holding it out.

“You want me to have this?”

“Aren’t we friends?”

He really couldn’t argue with that, so he took it. Already, he felt it granted him strength. If he activated his ability now, he would be able to hide from anyone.

“I changed it. The cube will help you now. Just keep it on you.”

“...thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

And although he did not think Chasma fully understood what they were saying, he knew that this would be the start of a long and storied relationship. He couldn’t wait to see the end.