Before he became the Winter Lord, he had been nothing more than a helpless little boy.
Several centuries ago, in a small fishing village somewhere in northern Europa, a white-haired boy woke one morning to silence.
His father, his mother, and his siblings lay frozen inside his hut, their faces locked in place as if time itself had stopped. Confused and terrified, the boy stumbled outside and ran to his neighbors, crying that his family had been murdered.
But everywhere he went, frost followed.
With each step he took, ice spread outward from his feet. When he reached the first house, the people inside froze before they could speak. He ran again, another door, another plea for help, and more lives were taken in the creeping cold.
By the time the boy realized what was happening, it was too late.
The frost had already swallowed the village. The sea, the huts, the people, everything stood still beneath a sheet of ice.
