Storm's Hand (The Owl House AU)

"Privates, atten-TION!"

The lined-up recruits, dressed in coven scout uniforms and holding their spears, suddenly stood straight and tapped the butts of their weapons, signaling that they were ready for a command from their drill sergeant. The new recruits were taken to a camp near the Emperor's castle to be trained and learn discipline. And after a while, they started to memorize every command the drill sergeant had for them. They knew every command before he could even say it, but they still waited for him to speak.

"Mark...TIME!"

As soon as the sergeant said it, the trainees began to march on the spot without moving, raising and lowering their legs in perfect sync.

"Right...FACE!"

The recruits then turned ninety degrees toward the right and stopped moving their legs once they were in position.

"Forward...MARCH!"

Then, they moved forward in perfect sync. This was the life of a private. Daily exercises and fearing the wrath of their instructor. There were dozens upon dozens of recruits in that camp.

And Sturm was one of them.

After their march, they ran through the usual makeshift course, and each picked a partner to spar with, either using magic or their spears. Sturm wasn't used to wielding a weapon, but he still got the hang of it due to being a fast learner.

The day went on, and the recruits returned to the barracks to prepare for rest. They chatted with one another, brushed their teeth, or were already lying in bed.

But Sturm wasn't doing any of that. Instead, he was merely staring at the mirror with a blank gaze.

He couldn't understand... He got what he wanted. He worked, studied, bled, sweated, fought, destroyed, and killed just to get here. So why wasn't he experiencing the feeling of accomplishment?

But the more he thought about it, the more his mind began to spiral, eventually thinking of another time. A time before he ever got to the Boiling Isles.

He slowly remembered that he wasn't always Sturm. And he couldn't always run at the speed of sound, shoot lightning from his hands, or lift objects ten times his weight.

He was once just like every other human boy. And he hated it.

Four years ago...

The beginning of the end started four years ago.

An eleven-year-old boy was looking in a life-size mirror with a dispassionate expression. His skin, short hair, and eyebrows were white as snow, his eyes were light blue, and he wore glasses, a black sweater, and dark pants. He maintained that expressionless demeanor as he listened to the radio sitting on a cardboard box.

"We may see a record low tomorrow night as a cold front moves in from the North! And a snowstorm warning is in effect for Hartford, Tolland, New London, Gravesfield, and even as far down as New Haven! Residents are encouraged to take precautions if they travel outside tomorrow night!"

Sighing, the boy approached the box and squatted in front of the radio to change the station. After just a second, he heard "Last Christmas" by Wham! He'd already listened to the song so much that George Michael's voice started making him feel ill. So he changed the station again, and his ears were assaulted by Mariah Carey's annual curse. Cringing, the boy quickly turned off the radio altogether, hoping she would be gone by the time he turned that stupid thing on again.

As the quiet fell inside the room, his eyes fell on something sitting beside the radio. It was a framed photo. Of himself, a younger girl, a woman, and a man, the latter three being caucasian. The man was slightly overweight and seemed friendly enough, with receding brown hair, blue eyes, and wearing a dark light vest over a shirt. The woman had fair skin, red hair in a bob cut, and green eyes, and wore a yellow cardigan and a long purple skirt. The girl seemed about a year younger than the boy and thus was slightly shorter than him. She took a lot after her father. Brown hair and blue eyes. Her hair was long and wavy, reaching her middle back. She wore a simple pink dress and was holding a yellow teddy bear.

Just looking at the picture made him feel annoyed. And he saw one detail that no one would pick up at first glance: everyone in the picture was smiling, except for the boy. He didn't even put in the effort to pretend he was happy.

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard shuffling sounds from his right. His head turned to look at the room. It had no wallpaper, and the lightbulb from above made the walls appear dull yellow. The room had barely any furniture save for two beds, and there were more cardboard boxes of different sizes.

Sitting at the center of it all was the same girl in the pink dress from the photo. She was kneeling in front of a box and rummaging through it. After a few seconds, she pulled out what she was looking for: her beloved yellow teddy. The second she held it in the air, she beamed and hugged it against her chest.

Seeing this, the boy closed his eyes and groaned silently.

"Did you have to bring that stupid thing, Lisa?"

The girl stopped what she was doing and looked to see her brother giving her the unamused look she'd become too familiar with. Her smile faded, and she held the yellow teddy bear tighter, not breaking eye contact with the boy. If she wasn't mute, she'd express her sadness from hearing him say that.

"I don't know why I'm asking. It's not like you can respond." The boy then stretched his back and began pacing around the room. "Well, here we are again. Dad gets a new job, so it's another move for the Maxwells and another new school for the albino kid and his little sister who keeps playing with the same toy from kindergarten."

The boy put the photo back down and continued.

"Why can't Dad stick to a proper job? We have so many bills to pay, and now this new mortgage. We can't even afford a Christmas tree this year, let alone some presents for you. I already stopped getting those. And the new school? I feel like it'll be just like the last one."

"JACKSON! GET DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!"

The albino boy, apparently named Jackson, stopped pacing and looked at the half-open door leading down the hall. He then looked at Lisa, whose eyes filled with worry. Whenever their father used that tone of voice, it was never good for him. But Jackson was more frustrated than scared.

"Ugh, what now? He'd better not ask me to fetch him another drink."

Jackson then pulled the door open and walked into the hallway. He moved down the stairs and looked at how his parents had set up the living room. Most of the furniture was set, but some stuff was still unpacked. The couch and TV were set up, and unsurprisingly, his mother was already sitting there, watching a Christmas movie.

Ignoring her, Jackson entered the kitchen, where his father was waiting at the center, arms crossed.

"What is it, Dad?"

Without a word, his father moved backward and calmly opened one of the drawers.

"Care to tell me what this is?"

Jackson gazed at the drawer with a puzzled look and then back at the man with a deadpan expression.

"What, never seen a drawer before?"

"Oh, that's right. It's a drawer. Forgive me. My memory is all messed up."

Jackson expected his father to yell at him for getting an attitude. But to his surprise, it didn't come.

His father nodded, seemingly pleased with the answer, then slowly turned his torso toward the open drawer. He then put his hand inside, as if he was about to pull something out, when...like a flash of lightning, he whipped the whole drawer out of the counter and HURLED it straight at the boy's head.

Jackson swiftly ducked as the drawer flew past him, and it hit the living room's soft carpet, but no contents seemed to fall out.

"Be careful with the furniture, hon, or we'll have to pay for the repairs," the mother called from the living room couch, not bothered by what had happened.

Total silence filled the place, save for the faint sounds from the TV. Jackson was beyond shocked, asking himself what the hell had just happened. He slowly stood up straight and looked back at his father, who kept his calm demeanor despite the recent action that suggested otherwise. Jackson then saw him cross his arms again, a gesture he was all too familiar with.

It was definitely not good.

"Why do you suppose I just threw the drawer at you?" he asked as if discussing the weather.

"I... I don't understand."

"Well, lemme tell you. Because the drawer was empty. And why is the drawer empty?"

"I don't know."

"Because you forgot to put the box with the silverware in the truck!" the man yelled suddenly, not bothering to hide it. "I told you to take it with us!"

"What?! No, you didn't!" Jackson yelled back, completely confused and suddenly switching to the defensive. "You only told me to take my stuff along with Lisa's!"

"That's not how I remember it. And don't you contradict me, buddy," he said, leaning over to get in his son's face, who flinched a bit. After a brief staring contest, he continued. "Do you know what it means if we don't have any spoons, forks, or knives?"

"It means we can't eat?"

"Bingo! We can't eat because of you!" The man then sighed harshly. "Ugh, you worthless little leech! How do you get straight A's but simultaneously be so negligent? As punishment, you are to stay in your room the whole night. And tell your sister to come down here."

Jackson turned and went up the stairs, unable to argue. When he returned to his room, his sister was already at the door, waiting for him. She asked him wordlessly if everything was alright, but her brother walked past her.

"It's all good, Lisa. Dad said he wants you downstairs."

Lisa gave him a puzzled look as Jackson headed over to his bed and collapsed onto it, groaning in annoyance. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before exiting through the door and closing it behind her.

Jackson just lay there on the bed, staring at the wall – something he always did after an argument or when he felt upset.

After a while, he heard a knock on the front door. But it was already too late by the time he got out of bed and down the stairs. He peeked from the corner and saw Lisa and the parents... sitting at the kitchen table, eating pizza. A treat that Jackson rarely savored...and a meal they could eat without utensils.

They didn't call him out to eat, ask him if he wanted to join in, or let him know that they would order some takeout at the very least.

And to make things even more unfair, his parents actually had genuine, joyful smiles on their lips. It was like looking at a perfect little family, like on TV. The kind of family that didn't have much but still managed to be happy by simply loving each other. His mother paid attention to Lisa and wiped her mouth with a napkin while his father gave her some of his slices whenever Lisa asked for more. At first glance, you wouldn't be able to tell that the mother could be an apathetic couch potato or that the father was the kind of man who'd hate your guts the second he'd look at you.

It was something he'd seen so many times already. Whenever he was around, it was abundantly clear that his mother and father could never win any parenting awards. However, they acted differently when alone with Lisa or speaking to others. They were decent people with strangers and were also great parents to Lisa...but not to him.

Jackson wanted nothing more than to barge into the kitchen and yell at them. And he almost did. But then he sighed and stopped his fists from shaking.

Ultimately, he closed his eyes and shuffled back up the stairs with his tail between his legs.

The school was an environment that Jackson didn't like, but he was doing well there. He was intelligent for his age and got excellent grades. Not only that, but he was impressively athletic, too. While his albinism was a debilitating condition, that didn't stop him from displaying above-average feats during physical education. And yet that still didn't earn him any favors with his parents. On the other hand, Lisa's grades were inferior, and she'd be lucky to get a C. Not that she was dumb; she was just not great with studying, and she could apply her intelligence to something productive if given the chance.

Because Gravesfield was such a small town, the middle and high school students had to share a building but were still separated into different sections. Jackson was a sophomore while Lisa was a freshman, being that they were only a year apart in age.

After finishing an easy yet uninteresting math class, Jackson grabbed his dark winter jacket and entered the schoolyard, where snowflakes descended gently to the ground. The weather was calm for now, but he knew this would only be temporary. The weather would soon become fierce and downright cruel.

He took a few steps until he heard two unfamiliar voices.

"What kind of loser brings toys to school?"

Jackson turned his head and saw the last thing he wanted to see. Lisa was being harassed by a boy and a girl around her age. They both shared some similarities: tan skin and blonde hair, but the girl had a small but noticeable pink streak on her hair. She was holding the yellow teddy bear out of Lisa's reach. Lisa tried to reach out for it, but it was all in vain. If she could talk, she'd beg them to give it back.

"A teddy bear? Haha! That's so lame," the girl laughed. "And it looks like someone peed on it!"

"Hahaha! That was such a good roast, sis," laughed the blond boy as Lisa's gaze fell to the ground in defeat.

New school, same crap.

Jackson let out an angry sigh. Those two kids acted like idiots, and as always, Lisa didn't bother to defend herself. This annoyed him immensely, and he wanted to deal with this irritation.

He breathed heavily when he slowly approached the bullies. The two kids turned around and realized that Jackson was just a few feet away, glaring at them.

"Ah, look. There's the other new kid," the boy said, not one bit intimidated by his angry glare.

"Whoa, didn't know he'd be such a freakazoid," the girl grimaced, commenting on his appearance.

"Both of you. Get lost. Or else," Jackson growled, pointing at them.

"Or else what?" the boy asked smugly.

"THIS!"

Immediately after, Jackson unleashed a furious right hook, breaking the boy's nose and knocking him to the ground. The two girls present gasped at what they were seeing. The girl with the pink streak reacted instinctively and pushed Jackson away.

"What's your issue, you psychopath?!"

After that, there was no more thinking. Jackson got on top of the bully and started hitting her repeatedly as the other students, including Lisa, stared in shock.

"Oh, good Lord!/Someone, stop him!/He's gonna kill her!"

Jackson completely ignored the students' gasps of horror. Before the assault could escalate and draw blood, Jackson was finally interrupted when someone ripped him off the girl. It'd been a middle-aged man with grey hair and a mustache wearing a winter coat and looking at the kids furiously.

"What on earth is going on here?!" the man shouted. "Somebody had better start talking! NOW!"

"They started it, Principal Hal! The new kids!" the blond boy yelled in a nasal tone as he pointed at his aggressor, who was now lying on the snow and looking skyward. "He attacked us and broke my nose! He's crazy!"

Hal turned to look at Jackson with an angry look.

"Jackson Maxwell! You're in a heap of trouble!"

Both Jackson and Maxwell were immediately taken to the principal's office. The girl sat on a chair next to the door inside the office room while the boy sat before the principal's desk. He sat silently as Principal Hal immediately got straight to the point.

"I called your parents, Mr. Maxwell. They're on their way as we speak," he announced, glaring at Jackson in disgust. "You're lucky I didn't call the police. This kind of violent behavior is not tolerated at my school!"

"Yes, sir," Jackson responded flatly, causing the principal to groan.

"Ugh... Now, care to explain why you attacked two students?! You broke that boy's nose and beat that girl nearly to death!"

"They were picking on Lisa," he said, making his sister smile, believing he was standing up for her.

"Look, I get that you were standing up for your sister, but using such violence is not the answer."

"No, no, no, no, you don't understand," Jackson interjected. "I didn't do it to stand up for her. I did it because I was annoyed. Those two kids were being stupid, and Lisa still doesn't bother standing up for herself. Whenever something happens to my sister, I'm held responsible for 'not watching over her' no matter what. And if I do something about it and someone gets hurt, I get labeled as a 'violent sociopath'."

The room felt silent for a moment. Both Lisa and the principal looked at Jackson with strange expressions. Lisa was worried because she started to question his opinion of her. She loved him with all her heart, but he didn't feel the same way. On the other hand, Principal Hal was firmly convinced that Jackson was being a jerk for this harsh confession.

"I'm starting to believe you are one. Do you know why? First, from what I understand, you care more about starting fights than your sister's wellbeing. And second..." Principal Hal then reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder. He quickly opened it and began to look over it. "From what I can tell, this wasn't your first incident before moving here. It says here, in your file, that you got suspended from your previous school in upstate New York for slamming a kid's head against a table at the cafeteria."

"He kept stealing my food and made fun of my condition!" Jackson tried to explain, but the principal ignored him and kept going.

"And you got expelled twice for aggressive behavior. In Pennsylvania, you beat a boy with a bat during baseball practice for 'purposefully ruining your uniform'?"

"My uniform was white! And he poured grape juice all over it!"

"And in Michigan... there's no telling what you did, but apparently, it was so horrible that your classmates were so scared that they no longer felt safe around you. And it bothers me because the reports say you were at the top of your class in all the schools you attended." The principal put the folder inside the drawer and looked back at the boy. "You're a gifted young man, Jackson, yet you seem to sabotage yourself with this violent behavior. I don't understand why we accepted you with all these past incidents. We must have thought this school would mean a fresh start. So we either have to expel you for the sake of the other students...or suspend you indefinitely until you go to counseling."

Just then, they heard a knock on the door.

"Good...your parents are here."

Principal Hal got up from his chair, approached the door, and opened it to greet the parents.

"What's he done now?" the father asked, completely bored.

"Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell. Please, have a seat."

After a lengthy discussion with the principal, the Maxwells finally went home. Everyone remained silent while in the car as the snowflakes fell faster, but there was no denying that the silence was only possible because Lisa was also with them. There would have been so much screaming if Jackson had been the only child present.

Upon entering through the front door, Lisa looked up at her father, who knelt beside her with a loving smile.

"Lisa, sweetie. I know you had a rough day at school, but Mommy and I will make it up to you, I promise," he said, ruffling her hair a bit. "Could you wait in your room for a bit? I need to talk to your brother."

Lisa kept smiling but was nervous when she saw Jackson's face. He knew his expression all too well now. He was hiding an overwhelming fear within him. But regardless, she followed her father's instructions and went upstairs. Once Lisa was out of sight, the smile on the man's face slowly faded into a death glare as his head turned to look at Jackson.

And as soon as they heard the door close, the floodgates suddenly burst out.

"Dad, just wait, I-"

Before Jackson could finish, his father delivered a swift, hard smack across his face, causing him to stumble back in pain. Not in the mood for any of it, his mother sighed as she moved over to the couch, sat down, and turned on the television, hoping to drown out the inevitable noise.

Holding the side of his face with his hand to ease the sting on his cheek, Jackson tried to speak again, but his father began yelling.

"ONE DAY! You haven't even been at this new school for one day, and you already got suspended?! And now your principal says we should spend what little money we have on a counselor?!" he asked, his face red with rage as he grabbed Jackson by the jacket, lifting him a few inches in the air.

"Let go of me, you animal!" Jackson grunted as his father got in his face.

"We might as well not pay our bills because we have to fix a lost cause!"

"Well, it's not my fault you can't keep a job! You blew most of our savings on the moving services!"

That struck a nerve. The man growled and tossed Jackson to the floor. Hard. He then started talking as the boy struggled to get up with all the pain stinging him.

"I will not stand this attitude in MY house!" he said firmly. No sooner could Jackson come up with another retort than his father began speaking again. "I'm in no mood for getting personal, so I have a different method to teach you a lesson. You'll go outside and shovel all the snow in front of the house!"

Jackson's face when he heard that. He was floored by this punishment. The snowstorm would come soon, and shoveling would be useless. This wasn't about teaching him a lesson. This was cruelty, plain and simple.

"Are you insane? It's snowing-"

"That's the point. Think about that the next time you get on my nerves. Now, move along, and you better not come back inside until the front yard is clean. Unless you want my belt to have another word with you."

And so it was. The next thing Jackson knew, he was at the front of his house as the sun had already set. Shovel in hand. Warm clothes covering him. Snowflakes accumulating on his jacket. Ears filled with the sound of crunching snow and metal barely scraping against concrete. And mutterings coming out of his mouth.

It was just as he suspected. The snow was accumulating faster than he could shovel. At that moment, for the first time ever, he wondered why his parents were like this.

Why were they so unfair? Why was his father acting like he burned his car, and why was his mother so indifferent to all that was happening to him, preferring to watch TV instead of trying so much as to speak to him. They actually loved Lisa and treated her like a pure, innocent angel. And indeed she was. But Jackson? They treated him like a cancer. Had the roles been reversed and Lisa had the guts to stand up to those two kids, she would undoubtedly have been praised while he would have been criticized for his inaction.

As he tried to clear the snow, he accidentally turned his head and spotted something close to the roof. Looking upward, he saw Lisa watching him from the window of their shared bedroom, trying to look more closely at what her brother was doing.

Just seeing her had instantly enraged him. Why does she get to be treated like an actual daughter while he is treated like dirt under his parents' boots? And worst of all, she never helped him with anything. She never even gave him any reassurance whatsoever.

Jackson dropped the shovel, grabbed a handful of snow, molded it into a ball, and threw it at her. Lisa suddenly closed the window and pulled the blinds before the snowball could reach her.

His hateful gaze lingered for longer. His nerves finally calmed, and he returned to shoveling. He unintentionally passed before the living room window, which was only partially opened to allow some fresh air into the house. His parents were already beginning to talk, and he was curious if they would speak of him. So, he stopped shoveling and peeked inside to see his father moving over to sit on the couch next to his wife.

"I keep saying... This is pointless," the man muttered, only to get a look from the woman.

"What's pointless?"

"Jackson. He's making me lose more of my mind each day. Why can't we have him out of our lives already?"

"Did you forget that we already tried that? The adoption papers have already been signed, and we have a court order to keep him."

In that instant, the sound of the world around Jackson had faded. His heart suddenly stopped beating, and his expression of curiosity turned to a mixture of different emotions, mostly shock followed by utter disbelief.

"What...?"

His mind suddenly went blank. His heart shattered into countless pieces. It was so out of left field that even he believed he was starting to hear things that, in reality, weren't being said. He wondered how it was even possible. He wanted to barge inside and demand an explanation. Why adopt him if they were either going to ignore him or use him as a punching bag? But his parents decided to answer that question without even knowing it.

"Oh, I wish we had Lisa sooner," his father continued. "That way, we wouldn't have been desperate enough to resort to adoption."

"From what I remember, you loved him at the start."

"Yeah... I did. But that didn't matter. 'Cause Lisa came along, and we had to prioritize. And those caretakers had to blow up on us and take us to court when we tried to give him back."

"Might as well accept that we're stuck with him."

"We won't be stuck with him forever. Because when he turns eighteen, he's gone. I'll make sure of it."

Jackson stopped listening and fell to his knees, hyperventilating. He wanted to scream, but the shock prevented that. He couldn't believe it. All this time...he'd been raised by a bunch of strangers. If they weren't his parents, then who were those people? Where did he come from? Why was he at the orphanage? Was his name even Jackson Maxwell? Who was he, really?

He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.

His mind became blank. He gently took the shovel and was about to shovel more of the snow mindlessly. Suddenly, a pang of lucidity hit him hard, and he stopped shoveling as his hands trembled.

"This is ridiculous..."

In a fit of emotion, he threw the shovel aside and stormed off, going down the street. He no longer cared what would happen next. He no longer cared where he was going, where he could go, or getting lost.

And at the time, the oncoming snowstorm was the last thing on his mind.

"Of all the disrespectful... Inconsiderate! Irresponsible! Uncaring! HEARTLESS! Why did I have to end up with THEM?!" he yelled as he strolled through the deserted street, making his way deeper into Gravesfield. Looking around, he could see the snowflakes becoming more visible within the orange glow of the streetlights. "But why was I at an orphanage? Are my parents dead? Did they leave me there? ... I don't care anymore. They don't exist to me. Never have."

The albino boy was so caught up in his that he barely registered the frigid wind blowing against his face, causing a few snowflakes to cover his glasses. He needed a place to shelter himself. Fortunately for him, there was an alleyway just ahead.

And so, he went there...not knowing that a police cruiser was nearby. And its driver had seen him. A cop had been stationed to ensure no one got hurt during the oncoming snowstorm. The smart thing to do would have been to activate his warning siren to get the boy's attention. But he didn't want to scare him, so he decided to talk to him personally. However, as soon as the cop exited the car, the kid had already walked into the alley.

The albino boy felt relief of not feeling the wind blow as hard against him anymore. He took off his glasses to clean them. And as he did, he heard voices from deeper within the alley. He could see three figures standing next to a wall. Upon a closer look, he saw three boys around his age spraying graffiti.

"Come on, let's finish it before the storm comes," said one of them.

"I'm trying! But my hands won't stop shaking! Stupid cold!" said another.

"Come on, we gotta get home soon!" the third added, having a familiar yet nasal voice.

Before the albino boy could move further, one of the kids turned his head and saw the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he asked, causing the other two kids to turn around and make themselves visible.

The albino boy didn't recognize two of them, but the third one...had blond hair, tan skin...and a bandage on his nose.

Well...crap.

"Wait a second... I know you!" the blond boy said, stepping closer to the albino kid as he gestured to his broken nose. "You're the one who did THIS to me!"

"Wait, this dweeb beat you up?" said the boy holding the can of spray paint.

"It's that freak! Jackson!"

"That's not my name," he said bitterly. In a way, he was telling the truth. For all he knew, he might as well not have a name.

"I don't care what your name is! You have some nerve showing up here after what you did to my sister! She's in the hospital as we speak!"

The boy fell silent. Under normal circumstances, he'd feel guilt for what he had caused. However, given his emotional state from what he had learned, combined with the fact that he was involved in a tense confrontation.

"Can we not do this now? There's already too much going on."

The blond kid's face instantly turned red at hearing his unintentionally dismissive response.

"You think you can just brush this off?! I'll break all your teeth for this, you psychopath!"

The boy then grabbed him by the jacket and tossed him over to his friends, who immediately proceeded to beat him up, with one holding him still while the other would punch him several times. Eventually, the boy fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

Looking up, he saw one of the kids picking up a red baseball bat that leaned against the wall. The kid handed the bat over to the blond boy, who smirked in satisfaction.

"Let's see how you like it, worthless piece of trash," he said as he lifted the bat high above, ready to crack his head like an egg.

But this gave the albino boy the perfect opening.

Acting on instinct, he punched the kid in the groin, causing him to squeal and drop the bat before collapsing. The albino boy took this opportunity and grabbed the baseball bat before hitting his other friends with it. He hit one in the leg and the other in the shoulder.

He then began to take turns hitting the two unknown kids until they practically begged him to stop. The boy breathed heavily from all the adrenaline and effort, pointing the bat at the trio.

"Hahh... You want more? Huh?"

The trio looked up, and their expressions immediately shifted from pain to fear. As they got up, one of the kids tossed the can of spray paint at their attacker before fleeing further into the alley.

The albino boy held the can in his hands. He was confused but glad that it was over. However, when things settled down, he heard crunching snow from behind and immediately realized that there was another reason why those kids were so scared.

"Hey, you!" said an older voice.

He quickly turned around and saw a cop in a winter jacket. Upon looking upward, his heart sank at seeing the man, knowing he would get in trouble.

"What are you doing out here, son? Were you vandalizing this place?"

"N-No! I was just, uh..."

"Listen, if you're gonna talk, you can do that at the police station."

The cop reached out and grabbed the scared boy by the forearm. He tried to pull, but the kid resisted. As soon as he turned to look at the kid, the boy shook the can of spray paint and pointed at the cop before pushing the button, creating a small, colorful cloud that caused the cop to clench his eyes and cough violently.

"AH, IT'S IN MY MOUTH!"

Once again, the boy took advantage of another opportunity and ran past the cop, dropping the bat and can of spray as he fled for dear life. Not even the harsh wind and snowflakes hitting his face slowed him down. He kept running without looking back. He didn't even pay attention to where he was going or where he could go. After a few minutes, he stopped to catch his breath. When he got his bearings, he realized that he lost the cop and sighed with relief.

But the sense of reassurance quickly faded as he realized the wind was picking up. He looked at the rows of houses from both sides. Through the windows, he could see the children spending time with their families and eagerly decorating their Christmas trees, cooking, singing, or watching classic movies together...waiting in anticipation for the sacred evening.

That's when he felt something he hadn't felt before. He hated seeing all of it. Seeing those smiling faces, the Christmas cheer, all the joy and celebration... He despised it. Seeing all of it made him realize that he could not remember the last time he had a decent Christmas...or if he had one at all.

Watching those families being happy infuriated him because he knew he would never have that.

When he thought he was about to lose it, his stomach grumbled with hunger. He regretted leaving so soon because he at least would have had dinner at his home. Fortunately, he saw a convenience store just ahead.

Cold and hunger limited his options, so he saw no choice but to enter. As soon as he stepped inside, he could already feel the contrast to what was outside. Unlike the cold, dark, and open outside world, the interior was well-lit and warm but slightly claustrophobic. And instead of hearing the harsh whistle of the wind, his ears were filled with the soft sound of "Angels We Have Heard On High" coming from a stereo.

Right next to the entrance was a man behind the counter. His nametag read "Jacob", and he was reading a book titled "The Mystical History of Gravesfield".

The boy stepped deeper into the store and went through the aisles. He didn't know what to take, so he grabbed a chocolate bar and brought it to the cashier, who glanced from the book.

"Just the chocolate? Alright. That'll be five dollars."

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out its contents. He only had a penny, some lint, and crumpled-up tissue paper.

Before anyone could comment, the door to the store opened, and the boy felt an overwhelming presence.

"Well, look who's here."

A jolt went up the boy's spine as he slowly turned his head. Standing beside him was the same cop from earlier, with spray paint still covering most of his face. He could barely hear the angelic song coming from the stereo anymore. He was frozen, just staring at the man. If he got his hand on him, there surely would be consequences.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Jacob asked.

"It's not you, mister. It's the boy," the cop said, looking at the albino kid, who looked terrified. Sensing that the boy was apprehensive, his expression softened. "Look, son, I'm not mad about what you did in that alley; I'm just looking out for you because of the snowstorm. Come on, you can come with me to the station. I can call your parents to pick you up."

Just hearing that last part made things even worse. The boy felt his pulse skyrocket, and his ears rang. Then, acting on his lowest instinct, he grabbed a candy jar next to the cash register.

"NO!"

With all his might, he smashed the jar against the cop's face, sending candy and glass shards everywhere, causing the man to yell in pain as Jacob jumped in surprise.

Seeing his chance, he ran out the door and back into the cold winds. There was nothing on his mind except running. And he kept doing so until his chest hurt. After catching his breath, he realized he'd reached the edge of town, near the woods.

Looking to his left, he saw a nice-looking two-story house with white walls, a gray roof, and many windows along the front. It also had a driveway on the left side and a walkway leading up to the front door. Behind the house was a dense forest. One would imagine how beautiful it looked in the warmer seasons.

But now, the cold had rendered the forest lifeless, covering it in white. The boy just stood there, shivering as the snow fell harder.

That's when he finally realized what was happening.

The snowstorm had finally come. And there was no way of sheltering himself from it.

He looked at the house again, wanting nothing more than to go inside for warmth. He walked onto the walkway and raised his fist to knock on the door...

But something in the back of his mind told him not to. Something was warning him.

"No... I know how people really are. I'm not going to waste my energy only to be turned away..." he mumbled, returning to the walkway, not knowing what to do anymore. But then he looked at the dense woods behind the house and had another idea. "I just hope the trees will block some of the wind..."

And with that statement, he made it into the woods, walking by the side of the house.

Upon disappearing among the trees, the front door opened, revealing a young girl. She'd heard the noise outside and checked to see what was happening. She could still see the footprints leading to the front door, even with the snowfall. She knew someone had been there and wanted to investigate, but the distant sound of a coughing man caught her attention. Sensing that it was urgent, she immediately closed the door.

Meanwhile, the boy had already made it deep enough into the woods that the houses could no longer be seen. The trees blocked most of the wind...but not all of it. It was still unforgivingly cold. And the trees still didn't protect him from the falling snow.

Realizing that it was only a matter of time before the frostbite would get to him, he gently leaned against a tree and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his impulsive decision.

"I'm such an idiot... I shouldn't have run away..."

If he hadn't left, he wouldn't be here. Sure, he'd be stuck with a fake family that never loved him, but at least he wouldn't be freezing to death. Funny how that works.

When the boy was about to lose himself to the cold, he saw something fly past him. Then he heard a distinct hoot from all the wind that filled the air. Upon focusing his gaze, he saw an owl flying against the wind.

He looked in the direction it flew and noticed an old, abandoned cabin. It flew towards the doorway and disappeared into what appeared to be a bright light.

Thinking that the owl was going inside for shelter, the boy followed it with new energy, dragging his feet through the snow and making his way toward the cabin like his life depended on it.

Finally, he made it to the entrance. And as soon as he stepped inside, he was briefly enveloped by a bright glow.

When it was over, the cold had instantly vanished. This sudden warmth almost shocked the kid, but he was more confused than anything else. Looking around, he realized that his surroundings didn't resemble an abandoned house. It looked more like a long tent than anything else, with piles of random junk on both sides. The interior was filled with various odds and ends, from clothes to furniture, toys, and everyday utensils.

He looked back and saw what he had just walked through. It looked like a doorway of sorts with a view of the dark, snow-covered forest on the other side, and right beside it was what appeared to be a wooden door with a giant yellow eye with a slit pupil.

Before he could comment on that, he looked back and saw a tall figure with their back facing the boy, and the owl he saw earlier was sitting on what appeared to be a table.

"Ah, there you are, Owlbert. I thought I lost you there," said the figure with an older woman's voice. The owl hooted and shivered from the cold radiating from the portal. "I see it was harsh out there. I'm actually feeling a bit chilly myself. Don't worry. I won't let the cold get here anymore."

With her back still turned, the woman pulled out what appeared to be a key and pressed on it. As soon as she did it, the door closed and into a suitcase before floating up. The boy watched as the suitcase floated back to the mysterious woman, who was unaware of his presence.

Feeling trapped and too scared to get her attention, the boy carefully walked over in the opposite direction and lifted part of the tent so he could get out. As soon as he exited the tent, he began running...

And he quickly stopped.

What he saw shocked him.

Standing on the edge of the cliff, the boy saw a sight that looked like a Hieronymus Bosch painting come to life, but somehow worse. There was a view of a city that looked like it came from a grotesque medieval fantasy movie. It consisted of strange buildings, with some decorated with numerous arms and teeth.

And the residents? They weren't people. They were monsters. Those beasts looked like nothing he'd ever seen, even in his most bizarre nightmares. Some looked like monsters he almost recognized from different mythologies, but there was always something that set them apart from what he knew.

The boy's eyes widened in complete disbelief. This couldn't be happening...

This couldn't be real.

"W-Wha-Wha-What- What is this place?! Where am I?"