Thora was quite, to put it nicely, an unusual child. She was born in the year of our Lord, 983 A.D., on the eve of the new year. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her poor father did not know what to do with her.
King Alexander was bewildered by his daughter. For one thing, he and his beloved wife, Isabelle, both had long, golden hair that flowed thick and pretty. Thora's hair was darker than a bat's wing, and lay very flat and straight. Both her mother and father were well known for their pleasing appearances; but Thora was very plain, her skin pale, his eyes dull and brown.
It was whispered throughout the castle walls that perhaps the child was not King Alexander's daughter, and that Queen Isabelle had been unfaithful. The rumors greatly angered him, and he ordered that any servant overheard speaking such lies was to be immediately imprisoned.
As the years passed, King Alexander came to the realization that he was beginning to fear his own child. When Thora turned eight years of age, Alexander came upon her in her chambers, playing with a doll made of straw. But it was not in the innocent matter that most young girls played with toys. Thora had poked several pins into the doll, in places such as the eyes, the chest, and betwixt the legs. This greatly disturbed King Alexander. Especially when several of the servants began to complain about strange mysterious discomforts: a young woman spoke of her eyes burning, and another felt a constant sharp pain in the heart. A third, one of the handmaiden's, gave birth to a stillborn baby.
This caused King Alexander to panic. He ordered Thora to be moved to the chamber in the tallest tower of the castle, where she was to be kept under constant supervision. It was years before he saw his daughter again.
Thora didn't mind being stuck in her small, damp quarters. All she had was her tiny straw bed, and a wool blanket. But there was a window where she could look out into the outside world. Every day, she was brought two meals and plenty of water, but she was not allowed out of the room unless summoned by her father.
Every day, Thora would look outside her small window, to see the sun shining brightly in the blue sky. She wished she could go outside and play, like other little girls, but of course the tower was much too high for her to escape.
Thora spent many years in the tower. Once a year, on her birthday, a seamstress would come to take her measurements, and would make her a new dress that better fitted her growing form. The dresses were all the same- modest, black gowns, made of lamb's wool. Then the seamstress would leave, and Thora was alone once again.
Over the years, Thora became very lonely. She would try to strike up conversations with the servants that brought her food and water, but they had received strict orders from King Alexander not to speak with her. Young girls should not be left alone for years without a person to talk to. It does things to their minds. Not to mention, Thora was becoming more and more sensitive to the sunlight that poured into the chamber from the tiny window.
Soon it was only seven days before Thora's eighteenth birthday, and as the sun was beginning to set, the door of the chamber opened, and in walked the seamstress, who was by now quite aged, and perhaps in her sixth decade.
Thora stood very still and quietly as the seamstress took her measurements, her face blank, and her eyes expressionless. She had filled out beautifully as a young maid. Her body was no longer straight and thin, but had voluptuous curves. Her breasts were petite, but prominent. As the seamstress walked behind her to measure the back of her shoulders, Thora was surprised to hear the older woman whisper something in her ear. It was the first time the woman had spoken to her.
"Thora, I have something for you."
Thora held still as she felt the seamstress slip something over her head and around her neck. She looked down, and saw that she had placed a silver chain necklace, with a small silver cross hanging from it.
"Twas your mother's," the seamstress whispered. "Keep it secret. I'm sure she would have wanted you to have it."
Thora was stunned. She did not even have time to say thank you, as the old woman turned briskly and left the room. For a long time, Thora sat quietly on her straw bed toying with the cross around her neck. A full moon rose outside in the black night sky, and the moonlight cast a silver light into the chamber.
Suddenly, Thora heard a sort of tapping sound near the window. She looked over, and saw a small brown mouse crawling along the windowsill. The mouse hopped down from the window, scuttled across the floor, and sprang up on the bed next to Thora.
Smiling, Thora reached down to gently stroke the mouse on its head with her fingertip. "Perhaps I have made a new friend," Thora said.
"I will be your friend, Thora," announced the mouse, with a squeak. Thora was only slightly surprised. She was mostly happy that she had someone to talk to.
"What is your name?" Thora asked the mouse.
"You may call me Martin," the mouse replied, and to her amusement, he stood up on his back two legs and made a little bow. Thora laughed with delight. Then Martin crawled up Thora's arm, until he came to rest on her left shoulder.
"You are a special young girl, Thora," Martin squeaked into her ear. "You have no idea how special. My master has chosen you."
"Chosen me?" Thora repeated. "What do you mean?"
"My master has been watching you since you were born, Thora. He has watched you grow up. He has something very important planned for you. He sent me to tell you how to prepare for it."
"I don't understand," Thora said, shaking her head in confusion.
"You will understand," Martin said, "in time. Now listen carefully."
Thora followed Martin's instructions exactly. For the next week, Thora refused the meals she was brought, and drank only the water. In between the servants' intrusions, Thora slept during the hours of the day, and spent her nights saying up and talking to Martin.
"It won't be long now," Martin told her. "Now, Thora, I have more instructions for you."
The next morning, when the servant girl came to bring Thora's food and water, Thora hid Martin carefully in her hand. As the girl began to leave, Thora very carefully slipped Martin into the pocket of the girl's apron. Then she lied down on her bed and fell fast asleep.
When night came, Thora waited anxiously for Martin to return. At last, the little brown mouse slipped in from under the crack of the door. Around his neck he carried a small metal key. Thora picked both of them up, and held one in each hand.
"On the eve of your eighteenth birthday," said Martin, "you must lock the chamber door from the inside. No one must enter the room. At precisely midnight, my master will come for you."
"But how will he enter, if the room is locked?" asked Thora inquisitively.
"The master will find a way," Martin replied mysteriously. "My task is finished here, Thora. I must leave you now."
"No, no, please don't go! You are my only friend!"
Unheeding of her plea, Martin jumped down from her hand, scurried across the floor, and hopped up to the windowsill. "Very soon, Thora, you will no longer need friends." And with that, he disappeared out the window.
Thora began to weep uncontrollably. What could the mouse possibly mean by that mysterious comment? All she really wanted was a friend. That was why she had done everything that Martin asked of her. But now, she was alone, left with only a key in her hand, and her loneliness. She spent the rest of the night shedding pitiful tears, and at morning's light, she lied down to sleep.
The next night was the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Thora stared out the window, praying that Martin would poke his little head and whiskers into the room, but there was no sign of him. There was nothing to do now but wait.
At one minute until midnight, Thora took out the key Martin gave her, and locked the chamber door. Then she sat upon her bed, and waited, as fear and anticipation filled her heart.
Suddenly, a crisp breeze blew in from the window, and before Thora's eyes there appeared a man, tall and fearsome, with long coal black hair. He was dressed all in black, from his shirt to his boots, and a long black cape was draped over his shoulders. His face was very young and handsome, but his eyes were a strange, glowing yellow.
The man smiled, revealing straight white teeth, but his incisors where unusually long and slightly pointed. "Thora," he spoke, his voice deep and demanding. "I have waited many years for this moment."
"Who are you?" Thora asked, her voice trembling in fear.
