The third day of marching was reaching its climax. The horses' hooves thundered firmly over the hardened frost. The mountains rose like frozen fangs beneath a gray sky, with no promise of sun.
The wind howled with a cry that seemed to foretell tragedy. At the front of the group, Trask, the half-giant elf, did not ride a horse, but a massive dark-furred boar covered in scars.
Each mark told the story of a battle survived. A living symbol of strength.
The group halted upon reaching the frozen city. What had once been a bastion of life was now just frozen ruins. Streets turned to rivers of ice. Doors shattered into splinters.
Fractured statues. Not a soul remained. Only the creak of the wind slipping through the wreckage.
Frost dismounted his horse. His feet sank into the thick snow. Then, a sharp pain pierced his skull. He fell briefly to one knee.
—This snow… it's magical… —he whispered with a furrowed brow.
Trask also dismounted his beast.
—We need to rest —he pointed toward the frozen hills—. The dragon… must be there.
The elven mage, calm despite the cold, raised her staff.
—I'll send someone to scout…
With a whisper, a water hawk formed in the air, its crystalline wings flapping.
—Hey, damn witch! —Fred roared, approaching in fury—. What are you doing using magic here? It's forbidden!
He drew his sword aggressively.
—I'll cut your head off, blasphemous witch!
Before the blade could move, Trask stepped between them like a living wall.
—I'll tolerate your shouting and insults. But if you touch one of mine, I'll rip your soul from your body. Lower that sword. Now.
—Listen to him, Fred! —ordered Frost.
Fred looked at the prince, his hands still trembling with rage.
—But, Prince, they're breaking the rules…
—They're from another world, right? —Frost asked the elf.
She nodded.
Frost turned back to Fred.
—Imagine you went to a world where using a sword was forbidden. You wouldn't know. But if you needed to defend yourself, what would you do?
Fred reflected.
—Use it… even if it's forbidden.
—Exactly —Frost nodded—. So don't judge them for not following rules they don't know.
Fred slowly lowered his sword.
—You're right, Prince. I'm sorry… —he said, looking at the elf with humility.
King Delgard, who had watched silently from his golden steed, smiled faintly. For the first time in years, he felt proud of his son.
The elf closed her eyes.
—I found him. The dragon is near.
With firm steps, the group headed toward the frozen hills. The wind blew harder. The world seemed to whisper. And then… Frost fell to his knees again. The snowflake mark on his hand glowed brightly.
—Again… that thing… —he murmured, trembling.
—Prepare for battle! —King Delgard roared.
The group raised their weapons. Trask wielded his runic axe. The runes glowed with an ethereal blue. The dragon appeared. Gigantic.
Its scales were like shards of crystal. Each step shook the earth. Each breath froze the wind.
—At last, you stand before me —it said with a deep, grave voice. Its gaze focused on Frost—. You're smaller than I expected… But it doesn't matter. It's time to go.
Frost stepped back.
—Go… where? Do we know each other?
—You don't know me. But I, and my creator, know you. You've reincarnated many times, bearer of the Chi Tae. And finally… we have you.
—Chi Tae? Then… are you a divine sage?
—No. I'm just a messenger.
—A messenger who destroyed cities and froze lands?
The dragon was silent for a moment.
—It was the only way to make you come.
—Attack! —shouted King Delgard.
A rain of arrows, spears, and stakes flew through the air. Nothing pierced the scales. The dragon reared back. Its chest lit up. And it unleashed an icy breath that turned dozens of soldiers into crystal statues, shattering as they fell.
—PRINCE! —Fred shouted, running toward Frost.
Frost was launched by a spike of frost from the ground, crashing against an icy wall. Fred reached him, lifting him.
—Are you alright?
—Yes… don't worry, Fred…
Delgard kept ordering mercilessly.
—ATTACK! DO NOT STOP!
Soldiers died like ants. Delgard did not retreat. His eyes were full of ambition, not compassion.
Trask, watching the carnage, muttered:
—What an unpleasant king… Poor people…
He raised his axe.
—We'll need magic. Full coordination.
—First, blind it —shouted the archer, loading fire arrows.
Two precise shots. The explosions burned the dragon's eyes, making it howl in pain.
—Cursed beings… I'll reduce you to hail!
Trask leaped with beastly strength.
—Pleasure to meet you, ice dragon.
His runic axe cut through the scales. The dragon howled as the blue energy carved deep wounds.
—That's it! Weaken it! —Delgard shouted with furious delight.
Fred helped Frost stand.
—My duty is to protect you, Prince. It always has been.
Frost looked at him with respect, a spark of tenderness in his eyes.
—Thank you, Fred… You're like a father to me.
—Just be careful. I'll handle the rest —he said with a smile and charged into battle.
Frost advanced too. His sword gleamed. The dragon roared, beginning to charge energy in its throat. A white, frigid sphere grew with intensity.
—I know how to stop it! —Frost shouted.
He leapt. Ascended straight toward the dragon's mouth.
—PRINCE FROST! —Fred screamed in despair.
The mark on Frost's hand glowed intensely.
The dragon whispered in his mind:
—If you kill me… your destiny will shatter…
Frost didn't hesitate. He plunged his sword into the dragon's neck. The ice cracked. The colossal body of the dragon trembled and fell heavily, shaking the mountains.
Frost landed on his feet, gasping.
—I did it…! I killed a dragon!
Fred ran to him.
—Are you alright?
—Better than ever!
—That was very risky…
—But it worked. This victory is ours!
Everyone cheered, exultant. Delgard smiled. Trask lowered his axe.
—That boy… has an indomitable fighting spirit.
But the glory was brief.
—WATCH OUT, PRINCE! —Fred shouted.
A spear of frost burst from the ground.
Fred threw himself at Frost, pushing him away.
The ice pierced his abdomen.
Silence.
The world stopped.
—Fred… —Frost whispered.
Fred smiled, blood on his lips.
—I'm glad… you're alright… Prince…
And he fell.
—FREEEEEEED!!! —Frost screamed, dropping to his knees, trembling.
Winter… had not left. It had only just begun to claim the price of victory.
The world was silent.
A light rain fell with a sadness that felt eternal, covering the sky with heavy clouds, dimmed by emptiness. In the middle of the royal garden, where once flowers sang with spring, now there was only a gravestone… and a young prince kneeling before it.
Frost Delgard wore no armor, no sword. No crown or titles. Only a black robe, soaked by the rain and his heavy breath.
—I'm so sorry, Fred —he whispered with a trembling, almost choked voice—. Forgive me for not being strong enough, for not getting there in time… Thanks to you… I'm alive now.
Commander Fred's gravestone bore nothing but a symbol carved into the stone: a broken sword crossed by a snowflake. A symbol of loyalty. Of sacrifice. Of unconditional love.
Soft footsteps rustled the wet grass. Lorraine, with her long silver hair and brown cloak, approached slowly. She stopped behind Frost, and with tenderness, embraced him from behind. She caressed his shoulder, feeling his pain tremble beneath his skin.
—Let me… suffer with you too —she said, holding back tears.
A year passed.
Time did not fully heal, but it taught how to live with the wound. Frost had matured. Though sorrow never left him completely, his gaze became more serene. He was no longer the same impulsive young man. He was someone marked by loss… and by love.
One day, in the calm of an open field near the village, Frost and Lorraine shared a picnic on a blanket. Warm bread, ginger cookies, roasted meat, and jam.
The sun shone gently. Liliana, his sister, had returned from her studies in a foreign kingdom, bringing with her stories, books, and discoveries.
—Hey, sister —Frost asked while they ate—. Since you know so much about the Weave Temples… and those dimensional fissures… who created them? How can they exist in every world?
Lorraine coughed, laughing.
—Don't you think you're exaggerating a little?
Liliana smiled.
—It's alright. Actually… no one knows for sure who founded the temples. But one theory says it was a human who got lost in a fissure and ended up in a place beyond time and space.
—He became something else. Learned things we're not meant to understand… and used that knowledge to build the temples. An inventor, an Arcane genius.
—Do we know his name? —asked Lorraine.
Liliana nodded.
—On an expedition with my colleagues, we found a temple stone with a name engraved: Kendall Morrison. It might have been him… but it's still a mystery.
Frost looked up at the sky.
—I wonder what he was like…
With time gone by.
Liliana met a young noble, son of a wealthy miner. She was approved as his fiancée by King Delgard and departed to another kingdom, leaving Frost with a new kind of loneliness.
Meanwhile, the King, frustrated by his son's disinterest in marrying noblewomen, kept offering candidates.
But Frost rejected them. One after another. Not out of arrogance. But out of loyalty. He only had eyes for Lorraine.
But he never introduced her to the king.
She was a commoner. And Frost feared for her safety… and for Elliott's. He knew that if Delgard found out, there would be no mercy.
One sunny day, Frost and Lorraine were walking back from the market, carrying bags of vegetables. They laughed under the sun.
—You're more gentlemanly than before —teased Lorraine—. The old Frost wouldn't have done this.
—Was I really that bad?
—You weren't bad… you were unbearable.
They both laughed.
—Since I met you… I managed to leave the cave I was in —said Frost—. With you, the cold isn't so cruel.
Lorraine blushed.
—You're going to make a good husband after all.
—And you… you've changed too. You smile more.
—All thanks to you, mister apprentice…
But then, a scream interrupted them.
—HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!
They ran. When they reached a river, they saw a tipped-over carriage. A merchant, wounded in his legs, was groaning. His horse lay dead, pierced by knives.
—Don't worry… we'll help you —said Frost.
He tried to lift the carriage. It was useless. Lorraine hesitated.
—Use your magic —said Frost.
—But if I get caught…
—Trust me. No one sees us. It's just him… and he owes you his life.
Lorraine nodded. She summoned the river's waters. They rose like liquid arms, lifting the carriage. The merchant was freed.
Lorraine healed him, reciting incantations. His leg closed as if nothing had happened.
—I feel like new —said the merchant… then added, uneasily—. I didn't know you were a witch…
Frost's gaze turned sharp. The merchant swallowed hard.
—I won't say a word… I promise… thank you for saving me.
And he left.
Days passed.
Elliott went on a trip. Lorraine was left alone at home. While cleaning, there was a knock at the door.
—Mr. Elliott? Back so soon?
She opened. A royal soldier stood there.
—Is it you?
The merchant appeared behind him. His face, wicked.
—It's her. The witch. She used the devil's chants to heal me.
—ARREST HER! —shouted the soldier.
Lorraine tried to run. A blow. Darkness.
Everything was chaos.
A roaring crowd. Clouds covering the sky. Screams. Rain. Fire.
Frost, tied to a post, blood dripping from his mouth. At his feet… Lorraine. Stabbed. Lifeless.
The prince screamed with his soul torn apart.
—NOOOOOOOOOO!!!
And then… he remembered the dragon's words:
"If you kill me… you'll pay with the cold."
Frost's tears froze on his cheeks. The pain became absolute. It consumed him. His mark glowed.
An explosion of Chi Tae burst from his body.
—YOU WILL ALL PAY!!!
Everything was covered in ice. The crowd screamed. Time slowed. The flames died. The ground cracked. The air turned white.
The kingdom… was buried in frost.
Where injustice once ruled… now remained only an eternal winter of sorrow in the Universe.