Frostbite

Chapter One

They came to everyone's houses, testing every child of the age of twelve.

Twelve was said to be time that was said their powers fully awakened, but it could be eleven or younger if the individual was especially gifted. If a parent refused to get their child tested, it was penalised with imprisonment  —  or worse, and the child was simply tested regardless of the parents objection. It was a parent's nightmare when that day came once a year -- in case their child tested positive and was carted off to the supposed hellhole that was the training establishment that helped them hone their powers until the age of 18, when they would be put into the special forces or a high up political job. Anyone who had these powers were nicknamed the Permafrosts, which was due to the nature of their skills. The Permafrosts were the high up class, the elite. They ruled the country from behind the scenes and were considered of a higher breed than the ordinary people. Permafrost powers manifested in people at random  —  they were not hereditary in the slightest. Anyone could have them, no matter who they were, or from what background. The powers themselves, though, were rare: estimated at one out of one thousand possessing them.

Eira had heard all the rumours. Her classmates had been talking feverishly about the inspections that were impending for children born in that year. She herself wasn't sure of her opinion on the powers and what they meant -- or even how they were, but, what she was sure of was that she could never be gifted with such things. People born with the ice coursing through their blood, they were special.

The book in front of her was going out of focus, the words moving off the page and dancing around in the air. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed deeply.

The test was getting to her head more than she had thought it would. She couldn't even focus on the reading for school that was due in two days time. The test was tomorrow and her classmates were all being allowed a day off for it. Honestly, she couldn't wait for the whole thing to be over with. She'd never have to think of it again. But, how many of her  would classmates test positive and be carted off to train? She dared not think of it. What if Cerin tested positive?  She slammed the book shut, shuddering with half cold, half fear. No. She shouldn't think of it. If he was gone, she didn't know how she would survive. She would be completely and utterly alone for the first time in her short life.

She sat the book down her desk and stood up, eyes scanning around her bedroom. She needed to stop speculating about things that weren't likely.

The bedroom was a small space, only enough for a narrow bed, chest of drawers, and a desk and chair. The ceiling was along the slope of the house's roof and meant she had to duck the half furthest away from the door. There was a window above where her desk sat, facing easterly. Through the window, there was a view down onto the cobbled street below. She sat there often on particularly empty days, just watching people pass by on their daily tasks.

She walked to the door that lay on the western side of the room. Her stomach growled. She'd been so caught up in reading -- or rather, thinking-- that she'd forgotten to eat her dinner. Making her way down the creaky wooden staircase, she then headed in the direction of the kitchen. Except-- instead of going in, she stopped short in front of the door. She could hear her adoptive parents having a heated discussion. More so than they usually did.

"I'm not letting them come into our house," Her adoptive father, Graham said. His voice was loud enough that he was practically shouting.

"We have to, Graham. You know what they'll do if we don't." That was her adoptive mother, Moira.

"I know, but—," she cut him off.

"No buts. You'll have to thole it. You managed when they came to test Owen. You can do it again. If you try anything, we could both be taken in. The children would be left to fend for themselves or worse."

He was silent after that. Eira heard a chair squeaking and then Graham opened the door, passed her by and walked upstairs without a word. She took in his exasperated expression and let him go. After he was out of sight, she slid through the doorway and sat herself down at the rickety wooden table. She didn't like to admit, but she was sometimes afraid of him. Graham and Moira were nice people and they'd done so much for her since they'd taken her in four years ago when her parents had passed away of an illness, but, she wasn't ready to consider them her parents. She doubted she ever would be.

"Eira," Moira greeted. "Do you want something to eat? You didn't come down for dinner."

Eira replied, "I was caught up with studying."

"That can't be helped." Moira smiled at her, and began rooting around in the cupboards for a plate.

Eira sat down at the small table and began studying her chewed down fingernails, hair falling in over her eyes. She could hear Moira moving pans around and getting food out of the pantry. Moira was always a generous and doting woman to her sons and Eira alike. Eira was always grateful for that, though sometimes she wondered how the woman wasn't constantly overworked.

The woman in question placed a bowl of a simple, yet hearty bowl of stew with bread and Eira gratefully accepted it, said a thank you, and began wolfing it down eagerly. Moira placed a hand on the girl's hair, smiling wearily.

"Remember the Test is tomorrow. Try not to worry about it too much," she said.

"I'll try, Moira," Eira said between mouthfuls of stew.

~

The next morning was harshly cold, the wind blowing so strongly it could nearly knock you over. Eira stayed inside that morning. She tried to read, but always felt distracted about the looming Test.

She sat huddled by the stove, wrapped in a thick woollen blanket. The fire was burning strongly, but she still felt the chills. She had always been overly susceptible to cold for some reason or another. Shivering, she turned a page of the novel, yet still she was unable to focus.

A knock brought her attention to the door. She answered with a yes and none other than Cerin entered. He was a pale, lanky and quiet boy who was often bullied by the other children for being weak and unable to stand up for himself. Eira disagreed with their accusations; she could see there was a spark inside him burning hot, just waiting to be ignited into a great bonfire.

Cerin was her only real friend, or maybe the closest thing she had to a brother. Those four years ago, when she lost her parents, he had cheered her up and invited her to live with him. And his parents had actually taken her in, something she was eternally grateful for. Who knows what orphanage she would have been carted off to if they hadn't.

"What do you think," Cerin started, "about the test?"

"I don't know," Eira replied honestly. "I hope one of us doesn't test positive."

"Me too."

"We probably won't be though... it's unlikely."

They left the conversation at that, and Eira went downstairs and helped Moira with sweeping the house in preparation for the Testers coming. She tried to ignore it, but butterflies were building in her stomach and her hands shook slightly as she clutched the broom.

The feelings only grew over the expanse of the next hour as she helped Moira wash and dry dishes. The clock soon struck ten O'clock and the telltale precise knocks on the door rung through the house. They were here. It was time for the test.