As Erinna turned five, the forest morphed into a frosty, icy enchantment. The snow that glittered like silver laid packed high in drifts where the night wind would build it. Heavy icicles shattered like glass by their own weight; each one a dagger sinking into the earth's newest top layer. The forest creatures themselves transformed. No more did the red fox come to visit, but rather the playful white fox. At night, wolves could be heard singing to each other. The wise, old, gray owl would perch itself in the highest tree under the guise of the matching sky and bark.

    Though winter carried beauty it also held danger. We made sure to stock up on wood in case of a blizzard or other sudden storm. I would hear papa or maman get up in the dead of night and replenish the fire so warmth could reign again. At nights, even during the day, we'd leave the curtain to our room up to help let in the warm air. Sometimes if the storms were bad or the nights too cold, papa would set up our cot right before the hearth and there we would sleep for the night, listening to the wicked wind whistle threateningly.

    Winter scared Erinna, who would stay snuggled up between Feria and I during the worse of the storms. Feria didn't enjoy the cold too much either, she'd rather run on the cool ground with her shoes off and a sweet wind breezing through her blond hair. I was the only one who enjoyed such a harsh season.

    While my family saw a cruel, unforgiving force, I felt a deep connection that grew stronger with the reveal of my blessing. There was something about the grueling winter of survival that drew me closer. In the day, you could witness the breathtaking, unparalleled beauty that only winter could bring- the bare slate it bore for something more marvelous to arrive. At night, you felt the unrelenting will of it. The thrill of hanging on while the storm around beat on drove me, the refreshing, rebirth experienced once surviving the night made me feel like tried gold. I would never truly understand why such a deadly, mysterious season intrigued me, but it was part of me.

   Another reason winter never dealt with me so harshly was the fact that as I grew into my blessing, I believe it protected me from things others might experience, like freezing or frostbite. I could feel the cold, but every year it bothered me less and less until only a chill could be noticed. I never noted these kinds of changes until further down my life.

   There was also the unexplained intuition that winter strengthened me; that was another trait I remained unaware of until later in my life. Every day, as best I could, I would wander into the forest and try to summon my blessing. Sometimes Feria and, maybe, Erinna would come along to watch or prance around, but they mainly remained in the house, stuffing the cracks so no snow could blow in that night. The arrangement was better off that way as I could practice alone without distraction. There were days I would become so frustrated at my lack of progress, tears would spring to my eyes, but I'd never let them run down my cheeks. I would wipe them away and remind myself I was favored by the Fates, they choose me out of the goodness of their grace, I was honored to have been blessed and should not buckle under negative emotions to tame my gift.

   Every day that winter I made a step forward in controlling what was part of me. The energy that swelled inside I learned to build up and release with ease. Every skill, every trick, I taught myself for there was no one to guide me in such things- though I was sure there were others out there blessed by the Fates as well. It was like learning to write and read myself, except I lacked even a basic book about what I could do; at that point, what I could do was endless. Trial and error were familiar acquaintances to me.

   As I discovered more about myself, I realized my blessing wasn't fed by emotions, in fact it thrived on me being devoid of it, it built on my internal peace, my mental solitude.

   One major setback to my training was the energy and stamina it took to endure a full day's worth of training. By supper, I could barely keep my eyes open to eat. I'd retreat to my bed even if papa were to tell a story. Maman, of course, worried over this and scolded me for pushing myself too hard, but papa always applauded my efforts. He would kiss my forehead with and pat my head, glowing with pride- he knew what it felt like to toil for a reward in the end.

   "A wise one travails through the rain to receive the peace."

   His words and encouragement spurred me on. As I grew stronger and older, I learned ways to combat and suppress my fatigue until eventually it pestered me no more.

   My sisters were supportive of my practice, as well, just not as verbally as papa nor as scrutinizing as maman. Feria would scarcely bring up the matter, while Erinna would only ask what I'd do out in the forest all day, but nothing more.

   Spending my days outside by myself gave me ample opportunity to think and reflect, and one realization came to mind nearly every time: The more you learned control, the less you began to fear. The sharp ice that would spike from my hands no longer frightened me, the flurry of a snowy whirlwind surrounding me brought tranquility rather than anxiety, the frost that sprung forth, creeping out of my hands failed to startle me. I was accepting who I was and what I had.

   That winter season as we dug out of blizzards and huddled together in our drafty house, I began my first steps toward success. Even if I didn't realize until years later, that was the winter which brought about my path toward eminence, towards power.