Ice, broken-hearted by the destruction of her creations by Sun’s light, stood upon her balcony, weeping at her waning winter scene.
“I wish to bear a son,” said she, “With hair as white as Winter’s snow, body invisible as Wind’s sigh, soul black as the carrion crow and his will that’s hard as iron. His heart the colour of the holly leaves, green with envy and spite and a gift to spill blood, red as the berries bright.”
Thus, after many seasons, Ice’s malevolence grew. Thence Black Ice was born to maim and cause destruction, until the end of time.