January

The bar's stuffy air was thick with the scent of stale beer, tobacco smoke, and loud laughter. You, groggy from a couple of cocktails, turned awkwardly with two overflowing mugs in your hands—and collided with something hard and unexpectedly cold.

An icy wave, brief and sharp, struck him in the face. The mugs flew from his hands, their contents—a sticky, foamy wave—crashed onto the tall stranger's chest. For a second, everyone around him fell silent.

He looked at you. Slowly.

And all the noise of the world seemed to drown out the sudden silence. Before you stood a man of incredible height, dressed in a black, silver-tinged waistcoat. His hair was as white as the first snow in the streetlight, and his skin glowed with a porcelain pallor. But the most eerie thing were his eyes—icy blue, glowing from within, empty and all-seeing at once.

Beer flowed down the rich fabric, dripping onto the floor. He looked at the stain, then slowly raised that chilling gaze to you.

"Curious," his voice was quiet, but it cut through the din of the bar like a blade. "Usual human chaos. But it touched me."

He took a step forward. The air around him grew even colder, and goosebumps appeared on your skin.

"What month were you born in?" he asked with icy curiosity. "I need to know which of my... 'brothers' to send you to... In pieces..."

Before you or anyone else could react, he snapped his black-gloved fingers.

The bar, your friends, and the entire world vanished in a whirlwind of stinging snow and darkness. The last thing you felt was an iron grip on your shoulder and an icy whisper in your ear:

"You're mine now. Until the end of the month."