Beneath me, the old timbers of the wooden bridge creaked ominously as I walked. Surrounding the bridge is an expanse of murky blue water, in turn ringed by huge craggy mountains, looking like grim Sentinels that had risen out of the very earth. Off to my right, in the middle of the lake, there rested a strange-looking complex that looked like a giant beaver den, yet somehow I sensed that it was ten times more sinister than a mere beaver den. Evil emanated from the very walls of the complex, enshrouding the entire lake with a ghastly, poisonous aura. Instinctively, I knew that it was called the "Palace of Ice and Poison".

Heart pounding, sweat oozing out in thick rivulets from every pore on my body, I picked my way along the rickety wooden bridge ever so slowly, desperately trying to avoid the attention of any denizens residing in the evil building...
*Shift*
--
I was on the top of a steep grassy slope, one side which ended abruptly to meet the mouth of a yawning abyss, the other side a steep decline into a dense forest. I picked my way delicately across the narrow path, fear threatening to overwhelm me as I literally felt the presence of the bottomless abyss, as if it was the mouth of Satan trying to suck me in. I finally found a place at which the decline into the forest was somewhat more gentle, and tumbled ungraciously, brambles and wild grass slicing across my unprotected arms, into the seemingly benign green.
*Shift*
--
She was as beautiful as she was gentle, the epitome of elegance.
"Where did you come from?" She asked me, the edge of urgency creeping into her voice.
"I really do not know, I think I stepped through a mysterious portal into this place, and then I saw the Palace of Ice and Poison," I explained, feeling very confused myself.

An expression of shock and fear instantly appeared on her face, all traces of her normally collected air gone to the wind.
"You should not have mentioned the name of the place. Now "He" can hunt us down, even if "He" does not arrive physically. I am the only real opposition that "He" has remaining. "He" will be drawn here like a moth to a flame," she finally managed to say, her voice quavering.
*shift*
--
She was not wrong. Within half an hour, she had retreated into the house, sitting stock-still on a chair, a look of intense concentration on her face. She did not respond to anybody, not even her gardener, the only other person besides me in the vicinity, and her faithful servant. Days passed and she remained in paralysis, unmoving, her face growing ever more wane and sickly looking. There were times where she rose up from her frozen position, coming to the window and staring out at us, but I instinctively knew that that was not her. A look of pure hatred so concentrated that it seemed to set ablaze anything that it touched, malign so deep that it will shake the bravest of hearts, shot out of her wide open sapphire eyes. Yet those moments will pass, and she will return, zombie-like, to her frozen position on the chair.

"We must do something to help her!" I said, in desperation, to the gardener, after the second day of her paralysis.
"There is only one solution," the white-haired gardener said gravely, the lines of age on his face emphasized by his worry. "We must go to the Palace of Ice and Poison to confront "Him"".

Instantly, my brief determination vapourised, the very mention of "Him" luring out the coward in me, and more than anything, I wanted to remain in this very spot, even if she is going to die.
*shift*
--
I charged clumsily through the forest, ragged gasps torn spasmodically from my beleaguered lungs, legs feeling like lead, and yet carrying a determination to continue running that is blown out of all realistic proportions. Because I knew that "He" was after me. Yet my attempt to escape is as doomed that of the field mouse who tries to escape from the eagle on a wide open prairie.

I tripped. The thrice damned tree root that caused me to fall seemed to laugh aloud at my plight.

"You're doomed, you're doomed!!" It mocked at me.

"You're doomed, fool. There is no escape," a voice, cold as the coldest glacier in the coldest of winters, cut right through me, freezing me as I tried to get up and run.

Slowly, slowly, I pivoted around, feeling like all the light, all the warmth in the world has deserted me. There was no hope, no hope...

"He" was there, just as I expected. "He" was accompanied by the gardener. Somehow, I did not feel at all surprised. I did not have the capacity to feel any emotions, except for a yawning despair.

"Wait, do not kill him!" the gardener said suddenly. "Let me have him; I have use for him. You have to handle the Snow Queen anyway," the gardener pleaded with "him".

"Why this sudden change of plans?" "he" uttered coldly, "his" slitted eyes narrowing even further. The gardener did not respond, only looking at me silently, the barest look of hopelessness registering in his eyes.
"Well then, I will erase him now," "he" said, as uncaring as if I was an ant.
"No!!" the gardener shouted, putting himself between "him" and me. "If you have to kill him, kill me instead!"

Nonplussed, perfectly calm, "he" leveled a long, crooked, white finger at the gardener. "You'll just have to die, then."

The gardener closed his eyes, a look of resignation on his face. Abruptly, he moved his finger, now pointing at me. Somehow, the gardener sensed that, and exploded into motion. Just as deadly white pellets of energy burst out of "his" fingertip, heading directly for me, the gardener completed a quick incantation, raising his right hand. An icy shield of purest translucent blue formed on his hand, blocking the energy bolts just as they reached him.

One, two, three. The shield managed to absorb the deadly impact of the energy bolts, flashing a brilliant white each time they hit.

Four. A crack appeared on the shield.

"He" looked at the gardener, "his" face betraying the tiniest bit of emotion, a mixture of surprise, sudden respect, and amusement. With a look of what might be regret, lips moving slightly, he fired a final energy bolt at the gardener.

Unable to withstand the deadly onslaught any further, the shield burst into pieces. The gardener was thrown backwards, his white hair askew, despairing face looking at me. With petrified fascination, I realised that one of the shield shrapnel had punctured his head, splitting it open slightly. Time seemed to slow as he dropped towards the ground, light fleeing from his eyes.

He hit the ground.

"Mm, this is delicious!!", "He" cried excitedly, a sick look of insanity in his slitted blue eyes. "He" pounced on the dead gardener and put "his" mouth to the crack in his skull, sucking at his partially exposed brains...

---

I woke up. It was just a dream.

But then, the econs test the next day was not. How ironic is life, to save me from one nightmare just to deliver me into the next?