"Napat! Son of Apā, hear me, please!" she whispered. "Protect this old woman, provide me with the will and energy to reach the gate!" 

It was almost as if the gods heard her. 

The snow ceased to fall, and the air around her stilled. 

She dragged her feet, uttering the name of Napat for strength. 

Until she stumbled upon a marble stone fragment. What was a marble piece doing in the middle of the ice? 

"Soul of Napat, dragon who is wise, hear my plea and melt this ice," she chanted, touching the floor next to the marble. 

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the ground beneath her shook slightly, the ice vaporizing in an instant. An ancient rune circle appeared around her. 

The script was familiar to her, but it had been so long since had she studied it that she found it difficult to read. 

Straining her memories, she could manage to get the gist of the script. 

"Holy gods, four are they,

True is one, his name, you say.

Spirit of lord, life, and soul,

Engulfed by love, shielded as a whole." 

A huge storm brewed around her. The runes glowed and dimmed, pulsating, as if waiting for her response. 

"Nameless is he, the Supreme One,

Apā we named him, Napat his son,

Hotrā the dragon, from Apā is born,

Guardians of Napat are Mitra and Sorn." 

She uttered the words, hoping they were correct, for she did know not who the real gods were, guessing only from the legends that were told. 

The blizzard intensified, and the storm engulfed her with the roar of a lion. 

She closed her eyes. She had done her best. If this was how her life was to end, then so be it. 

A bright light blinded her. She could hear birds chirping in the distance. 

The aroma of sweet-smelling flowers surrounded her. She smiled to herself. 

She was in heaven. If this was what death was, she wished she had experienced it a few centuries ago. 

"You are not dead yet," an amused voice interrupted her thoughts. 

Such a sweet voice, who was it, she wondered. Wait. What? She wasn't dead yet? 

She sprang up and sat, the sudden action causing a jolting pain in her neck, but she felt a warm hand on her back, which soothed the pain. 

"Akira, you shouldn't get up so quickly." 

She focused her vision on a young face staring at her. With hair flaming red, eyes the shade of amethyst, a mischievous smile adorned the face of the young boy, who appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen. 

"Wow, you look handsome!" 

"And you look very pretty. Should we go to my place first? We can talk after you rest a bit." 

She blushed. Pretty? That was not something anyone said to a five-hundred-year-old granny. 

"Young man, where am I?" 

"Exactly where you wanted to be," he replied and laughed at her confusion, his eyes twinkling.