The Flame Master walked out into the snow. The snow seemed heavy out in the outer wooded area. His apprentice followed obediently. He shrouded deeper into his cloak to shield against the blistering cold winds. Thankfully, the cover of the dense trees kept direct snow to fall on them.

“Ambrose.” The Master stood in a mountain stance. “Summon the flame.”

The apprentice, who was barely an adult raised his hands and spoke the sacred words. The palm of his warmed a red glow but immediately dissipated to its cold former state. Frustrated, he tried again but louder. Again, it warmed and reached the base of his fingers but faded yet again. It took a lot more effort to do this. The Master shook his head, not out of disappointment, but he already knew this would be the outcome.

“The ice element is your greatest foe. And in weather like this, your ability to conjure flames in these conditions are near impossible.” From the inside of his cloak, he retrieves a flask. “This is why I will give you this.”

Ambrose approaches his Master and and takes the flask and examines it. A black liquid swishes within.

“You have come far in your training and this flask contains magical fire accelerant. Only a drop is needed. Apply this to your sword and conjure flame to it.”

Ambrose does as instructed and unscrews the small lid. He cautiously pours and although the liquid moves fast to the opening, only a drop falls onto his blade. The liquid expands across and consumed the steel in a slick coat of oil. Ambrose speaks the words and the sword blazes triumphantly.

“This will also provide a longer burn and a resistance to ice. Passed down from master to apprentice. Guard this with your life, understand?”

Ambrose nods in amazement. He feels a great proudness of his progress and a great fondness to his master.

There is a sound of hoofs galloping. Not close but evidently audible enough to be heard. The Master frowns.

There is a shrilling shriek.