On a checkered playing field two foes met. One was Fear, the other Death. They circled round each other, Fear mounted upon a horse made of swirling wet blood, Death mounted upon an equine made of ice.

They continued circling, forming a lemniscate in the checkered grass; the horses freezing it to a brittle shape, then painting it sanguine with blood.

The sky boiled the sickly color of a week old bruise, a slight breeze moving the equines manes and tails, the same wind causing the cloak which concealed Death, to flutter, and the leafless birches to creak.

The two foes continued circling, Death hidden behind the cowl of his cloak, Fear's blatant ignorance obvious upon his young, slightly freckled pale face, as he opened ruby lips to speak; “I am the most powerful.”

Fear did not notice that Darkness was creeping out of the trees and out onto the field, covering the small area with twisting grotesque shadows, entwining with the grass, and then with the weight, crushing it flat.

“I'm afraid you are wrong, friend. For I am the most powerful, because at my center is fear, and at my end death.” Darkness whispered, his voice the hissing of the wind.

“No! I am the most powerful!” Fear turned his mount tightly to face Darkness. “I am Fear! Without me, you'd be as weak as a mewling kitten.”

Darkness twisted around Fear's horse's legs, causing it to stumble as it snorted loudly, splattering blood through the shadows and onto the flatten grass. “No.. I wouldn't. Because I exist, even when you don't.” Fear snarled in feral anger, his blood horse pawing at the shadows of Darkness angrily.

“Restrain yourselves, please.” Death finally spoke, a soft accented voice coming from the cloak, “It's very unbecoming to fight in so primitive a manner, but if it comes down to who is the most powerful, it is I.”

Fear glared at Death, before rolling his eyes. “You are naught but an old being, you have no power. You hide behind fabric. It disguises you as a mere shadow.”

Death shook his head, “No. For I am Light, and a continuation of Life. I am the deep sleep at the end of a long day, the warm wind on a cold night. I am warmth and peace, and light.” With the final word Death cast back his cowl, and all that remained were the glaring lights of a cab, shining through the morning fog.

Deep in hidden caverns of the earth, a sleeping beast began to wake up. It had slept long enough, its time to rule the mortal world had come once again.

The clouds twisted and swirled above the grey asphalt roads of London, tentatively holding the whispers of snow in every secretive breeze that spun around the legs of citizens and tourists alike, lifting long hair and cutting through scarfs and long coats to seize each and every human in its cold embrace.

As Arya walked through the streets, weaving her way through the sea of humanity, her head was bowed to the modern god of technology; checking the weather forecast for that day, as well as a couple of social networking sites. With an annoyed huff, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, knowing that being distracted in such a populated area would inevitably be her down fall.