Gather close around the hearth and heed the ancient lore, Of the shadow in the blizzard waiting just beyond the door. You will not hear his footsteps in the deep and silent snow, You will only feel the sudden chill that makes the embers low. When the rivers turn to silver and your breath begins to cloud, When the howling of the midnight storm is echoing too loud, Listen closely for the warning A greeting from the ancient dark where older spirits stood. Then from the swirling white he steps, a phantom born of ice, With a devastating beauty that exacts a heavy price. His skin is flawless porcelain, his eyes a glacial blue, With frost upon his raven hair, he turns his mocking gaze to you. He is a wanderer of the freeze, a lord of sleet and rime, Who plays his games with mortal souls to pass the endless time. A trickster with a wicked smile, an ego vast and deep, He loves to tempt the weary ones before they fall asleep. He’ll stand beneath the frozen pines and watch you start to shake, Amused by all the little rules that fragile creatures make. He'll offer you a freezing hand, a captivating dare... And ask if you are brave enough to breathe the winter air. He holds the power of the storm within his fingertips, With arrogant and teasing words upon his perfect lips! He'll toy with your survival, a predator at play, Until you beg for warmth or find the strength to walk away. His touch can snap the iron cold, his laughter chills the bone, He wanders through the shifting drifts completely on his own. But do not let him catch your eye or see you start to fall... For winter is a jealous force that wishes for it all. So if you're stranded in the dark without a glowing flame, Do not invite the stranger in, do not ask for his name! For if you let him cross the line and break the warded seal... You’ll find his heart is made of frost... And frost is all you'll feel.
