Prologue: Nine years ago...

***

Eight-year-old Kurt wandered through the tall thin trees, trying to find his way back to grandma's house so that he wouldn't be late for supper but he was lost and the snow was starting to fall again and he was growing cold. He wrapped his scarf more warmly around himself and trudged on, confident that he'd somehow just end up back at the house.

The woods were quiet. No birds were chirping though Kurt supposed that they'd all just flown south for the winter. But no squirrels or small animals were making noise either which Kurt found weird because they had been earlier.

The trees started to thin out and he found himself in a clearing. Frowning, because he hadn't come this way, he looked around. He could see something over the tops of the trees to his left--a building?--and the clearing was completely empty except...

Kurt walked forward, towards the old well. 

It was big, going up to his chest, and old. It was covered with a thick wood top that had sturdy metal latches but the rest was made with large dark gray stones. Kurt leaned forward curiously, putting his mittened hands on the stones and feeling their frigidness through the wool. 

He put too much weight on one of the smaller stones--one that was slightly smaller than his palm--and it slid out of place, falling into the well. Kurt blinked in surprise, waiting...not quite sure what he was waiting for until, nearly a half minute later, he finally heard the splash.

An odd chill filled Kurt and he took his hands off the well.

In the space that had been emptied by him accidentally pushing the rock in, an eye stared back at him.

Kurt stumbled backwards, a scream creeping into his throat as he took off through the snow, heading in a different direction than he'd come, tearing through the woods, the only thought in his mind run run run run run--!

He stumbled through a thorny bush and out of the trees. He was on the beach, the only thing around was an old lighthouse. The sun sank down into the ocean and darkness flooded the area. He ran over to it, not wanting to look behind him in case whatever that thing was in the well was chasing him. He tried pulling open the door, but it was locked. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he reached up on his tippy toes until he could grasp the latch and he pulled it down hard, wrenching the door open.

Blackness greeted him in the doorway. Kurt hesitated briefly before taking a step towards it. 

Something unmistakably alive breathed out from the darkness, rather loudly, and Kurt froze, eyes widening.

Seconds later he was on his back, winded and something dark crouched over him, pressing down on his chest and making it difficult to breathe. Gold eyes flashed and Kurt saw a fang and heard a growl and everything was starting to get a bit fuzzy and his head hurt...

Then the pressure was off of him and Kurt laid their in the snow, his head pounding and feeling sticky and then he remembered no more.

***

Present day...

***

Seventeen-year-old Kurt stood in front of his grandmother's house, suitcase in one hand, shoulder bag in the opposite. The clear gray sky was high above, no threat of fog or rain. A clean and pristine blanket of snow surrounded the impressive three-story home, its pale greenish-blonde wood gleaming against the sparkling snow. 

Kurt breathed out slowly, his breath hanging in the air briefly before dispersing. He walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell once. 

Edmund, his grandmother's butler, answered the door, nodding to Kurt. "Mr. Hummel. Mrs. Blanc is currently indisposed at the moment, but she said that she'd have you for dinner."

Kurt nodded once, stepping over the threshold to his new home.

"All documents and schedules are in your usual room," Edmund continued. "You'll start school tomorrow at St. Andrew's, further in town."

Kurt walked up the stairs in the incredibly empty house, paying no more attention to Edmund. 

His room was on the second floor. It was the same one he'd stayed in when he was younger and they'd actually visit grandmother back when his own mother was alive. Except now the bed was larger and the room looked practically stripped. He set his bags down and sat on the gray comforter, glancing around at his white walls, then out his window at the white landscape, dotted with thin black trees. 

Names on gravestones flashed briefly before his eyes and he blinked away the memory of his parents resting next to each other in the ground. He'd done enough crying in the past month, and his grandmother had always hated the sound. 

Instead, he stood and walked over to his window and watched the soft gentle flakes that steadily began to fall from the sky.

He felt dead inside.