JLA: A DARK AND HUNGRY GOD ARISES PROLOGUE 2 (Patreon)

PROLOGUE:  DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR

Some people claim to see the world as a stage, or as song.  

She saw it as temperature.   

She knew it in the language of Kelvin, Celsius or Fahrenheit.  

She walked a cold, barren path, much like the heat-sink that was at the core of her being, the hungry emptiness that claimed all warmth around her, leaving only frozen stillness behind.

In her dreams, she sometimes felt again the warmth of the sun, or of living flesh, a lover's body, or even just a casual touch.  But dreams never lasted long.  Dreams were the icebox of useless longings.

More often her dreams featured scenarios of revenge, of release of her anger, her resentment, a dish she savored cold, striking back at all those whose lively existence was a frigid stake on her side, those she would see cold and lifeless before her, part of her world if she could not be in theirs.  This was yet another.  The so-called heroes and heroines of this world had fallen before her, trapped in her icy constructs, encased in the prisons of her disdain. 

 Victory should have warmed her heart, but she was beyond such illusions, even in dreams.  Surrounded by frozen bodies, forming a cathedral of motionless, a mausoleum of absolute zero, she thought she knew what cold was, the could that went beyond the barrenness of a frozen soul.

She was wrong.

She had not known.  Not really.

She heard his voice, colder than death, and shivered in his shadow, chilled to the bone.

And in a space that was no longer dreams yet still quite not reality, Killer Frost swore her fealty.

TO BE CONTINUED