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Author: This is actually a chapter from around the start of the story. I deleted it because it didn't seem appropriate yet but since its the end now, here it is, enjoy.

A familiar expanse of white spread out in front of Dylan. It was both nostalgic and unpleasant for Dylan.

'Is it because I've been hanging around children nowadays? I've suddenly been reminded of the past.' He thought to himself.

Snow fell gently from the sky, adding to the blanket of snow already formed on the ground. The leafless trees were covered in snow, and the icy flowers on the ground were buried within it. All in all, it was a beautiful and melancholic winter view.

"Young master. It is cold outside. Would you like to come back in?" A voice could be heard from behind. Dylan turned around. A middle aged man with squinty eyes and black hair with strands of white could be seen on his head full of hair. The man's waist was slightly bent and his arm was crossed over his right shoulder in a show of subservience and respect.

Dylan coldly glanced at him. His golden hair was unimaginably bright in the dark weather. His little face was immature and had not lost its baby fat. Rather than handsome, it was more appropriate to call him cute. However, the young Dylan did not smile. His eyes sharpened with disapproval and disgust. Combined with the snowy weather, the servant felt unbearably cold.

"Leave." Dylan curtly ordered. His voice was filled with undisguised disdain and hate. He was rude and aloof like a nobleman. He did not like this servant. Dylan knew that his respectable conduct was all just an act and he would often talk bad about him behind his back. He even stole from Dylan under the guise of losing it and would often take liberties with the young maids taking care of the manor. This sort of man was not worth his respect nor his time. It was a pity that Dylan did not have the authority to get rid of him though, as he was a man specifically allocated to him by his Father.

"as you wish." The servant quickly bowed and left the young boy alone in the yard. As he turned away, he whispered something under his breath with a spiteful expression.

Dylan paid him no heed, merely admiring the landscape and the never ending expanse of white. Under the cover of snow, everything was so pure and dazzling. Even the dirty mud ground looked beautiful and clean.

Dylan looked left and right for any signs of people. There weren't any. He knelt down on the snow and placed his bare hands in it. The snow was freezing cold, making his small hands go red. Little Dylan did not mind, in fact, for the first time since the dream began, Dylan's frosty facade seemed to crack and a smile slipped through it.

Dylan used both of his hands to gather the snow and make a snowman. He rolled the snow over and over until it was big enough. Then he repeated it with other and stacked it on the bigger snowball. Then, Dylan put pebbles he found earlier on the head for eyes and then he made a mouth that curved to form a smile. Dylan also put stones on the body to make buttons and wrapped his scarf around the neck. Finally, he got some sticks and gave the snowman some arms.

"Mother." Dylan smiled warmly and innocently and hugged the snowman. He was the very depiction of joy and greatly resembled the little match girl at this moment. The snowman was cold but to him, it was the warmest thing in the world. Dylan's hug was gentle and not much strength was put into it in fear of distorting its shape.

"Mother, it's been a year since you've left. It is hard being without you. I'm always lonely and cold, I miss you Mother." Dylan stopped hugging the snowman and spoke to it as if it were his mother. He was kneeling on the ground and his nose was red like Rudolph. Snow piled up on his golden head and his clothes. But Dylan did nothing to remove it. He merely continued to speak to the snowman.

"Father gives me a lot of warm and delicious food to eat. I'm never hungry and I always have enough clothes to wear.

"He hired someone to teach me how to read and write. I can read books by myself and write my own name now. I also know how to use a sword. Someday, I'll become a great knight and protect people like you, Mother."

"I'll travel the world and help people. I will make people remember my name and tell them about my beloved Mother. So that's why, Mother. Don't be sad. People would always remember you, they will tell you story and sing your songs."

"Mother, mother, mother. I love you." Dylan gently kiss the stony lips of the snowman.

Suddenly, the snowman overlapped with the image of his beloved mother. In his hazy view, Dylan could see his beautiful mother smiling at him. Her cheeks weren't sunken in like when she had passed away, but they had regained their beauty. Her emerald greens eyes seem to glow with purity and life. Dylan's mother had a head full of pale blonde hair. It was long and fell to her waist. Dylan used to love playing with it. He would brush it, braid it and tie it up. Each time, his mother would laugh and peck him on his cheeks in thanks. Dylan loved when she did that, so he always asked her to do it over and over again.

Dylan collapsed at the base of the snowman. The beautiful woman he saw extended her fair hand and brushed his hair out of his face. Dylan's red face was full of joy and affection.

"Sing me a song, Mother. The song you always loved to sing." Dylan requested.

The woman began to hum. It was a slow tune, calming and serene. Then the woman opened her mouth to sing the lyrics. It was Brave Soul, Dylan's favourite song. The originally lively tune transformed into a relaxing and sorrowful tone but it was beautiful sounding and full of love.

The woman bent down to kiss the young boy. He was already sleeping, feverish and breathing heavily. When the woman's pink lips kissed Dylan's cheek, he felt something cold touch it, but it also filled him with power and blessed his dreams to be filled only with pleasant things.

When young Dylan woke up again, he was in bed with a fever. His clothes clung to him from sweat and tears trickled down his face. He dreamt of his mother. It was painful to dream about his mother. Joyous in that he was able to see his mother again but sorrowful in knowing that she was long gone.

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