Everfrost – The Echoes of Council
Faint aurora light danced across the Mirror Hall's crystal dome, painting each Elven face in rippling blues and greens—mirroring a sky that remained silent.
Kalen stood beside Eryk, both framed by silent Ice Elves: Vaelirn and Serinya.
In their hands, the crystalline seats seemed to pulse, awaiting verdict.
---
The Council Speaks
High Speaker Il'thoren rose, voice echoing like wind through glaciers.
> "We convene now to decide the fate of those who walk amid prophecy and snow."
He paused, letting the weight settle.
> "On one hand: mercy—for a father who lost his wife in bringing life; a child whose blood healed wounds."
He gestured to Serinya.
> "On the other: warning. His presence here pulls darkness… and hope."
A murmur stirred.
---
Voice of Caution
Speaker Thulanis, eyes cold as still ice, leaned forward.
> "If he is the Red King, we invite calamity."
She looked at the frozen coffin beneath the city, unspoken fears rippling in her glare.
> "Let him leave with his father. Far from here. Let Everfrost remain unspoiled."
---
Voice of Compassion
Serinya stood.
> "He didn't come seeking us."
> "He walked through the gates as he would walk his path."
> "To reject him is to reject the blood of prophecy."
Vaelirn added quietly:
> "I have seen his touch. The blood respects him—and so do I."
---
Eryk Speaks
Eryk stepped forward, voice steady but laden with fatigue:
> "I ask for shelter. For safety—for my son."
> "I will not let him become a weapon."
> "But if that is who he is…"
He closed his eyes.
> "…Then I will bear the fate for him."
There was silence. Even the crystals seemed to hold their breath.
---
A Child's Moment
Kalen moved forward on his own.
The silence shifted—shocked. Confused.
He looked at the Council.
> "I do not know who I will become."
> "But I know who I am now."
He drew a breath as his red eyes scanned the frozen court.
> "I want to learn. I want to understand this power inside me."
> "I want to live—not as prophecy… but as a child."
---
Verdict by Ice and Memory
The Council exchanged glances long and knowing. Finally, Il'thoren spoke:
> "Let him remain."
> "Not as prince. Not as threat."
> "But as guest—under watch."
He addressed Eryk:
> "Your presence is accepted—for now."
> "But make no mistake, blood has long memories. And so do we."
---
Unseen Eyes
Kalen bowed.
Eryk exhaled.
But behind them, on a ledge hidden in magic-shimmer, two figures watched:
One cloaked in obsidian and red silk—the Crimson Herald, Red Night.
The other in dazzling white and gold—the Silent Blade, the envoy of the Divine Order.
They did not speak. Their blades awaited a whisper.
---
A City of Frozen Light
Snow fell in Everfrost like a memory that refused to melt.
The spires of the city shimmered with veins of pale blue and silver. The walls whispered with runes carved before memory, and the silence was sacred.
Kalen stood outside the guest manor, boots crunching in the frost. Beside him, a crystalline tree bloomed with violet frost blossoms.
And beneath it stood a familiar girl.
Alyen'tra
She tilted her head when she saw him, arms folded behind her back, snowflakes caught in her white hair.
"You… You're the boy with the red eyes."
"And you're the girl who disappeared before saying hello."
She frowned, then smiled despite herself. "Alyen'tra."
"Kalen."
She looked at him like one might study a riddle etched into ice.
"You scared my mother. That doesn't happen often."
"Are you scared?"
Alyen'tra shrugged. "Only of things I understand. You're not one of them."
She gestured toward the tower behind her. "Come. My aunt is waiting. She'll be your tutor."
Annabell, the Winter Mage
The chamber was carved from mirrorstone and frostglass. Lanterns floated in still air, glowing softly. At the center stood a tall woman wrapped in layers of pale robes — embroidered with moving runes of ice.
Her eyes were blue-gray, like storm clouds wrapped in frost.
"You are late."
"He was meeting me," Alyen'tra said.
Annabell raised a single eyebrow.
"Then he has already made his first mistake."
Kalen swallowed as the woman turned to him.
"Sit."
The Three Energies
Annabell conjured a basin of still water and passed her hand over it. Three strands of light rose from the surface — gold, blue, and a spectrum of colors shifting like a living prism.
"This world runs on three great currents, child. Each one ancient. Each one hungry."
She touched the golden thread.
"Divine Power. The breath of heaven, the flame of gods. Rare. Gifted. Or stolen."
She moved to the blue thread.
"Mana — or Spiritual Energy, in the southern lands. It flows from within, shaped by knowledge and focus. Used by mages, witches, scholars, and seers."
Then she turned to the ever-shifting thread of color.
"Aura. The energy of self. It is forged by will and fed by spirit."
"Unlike mana, it is not channeled—it is awakened."
Kalen frowned. "Why is it changing color?"
Annabell answered:
"Because Aura is unique to each soul."
"Its color reflects the essence of the person. Courage may shine gold. Wrath, crimson. Compassion, silver. Despair, violet. Pride, deep green. There are as many colors as there are truths."
Blood Magic
Annabell moved away from the basin and regarded him sharply.
"You, however… do not fit."
"Blood magic is not a school of power. It is not learned—it is remembered more like a language."
"It is a curse, and a key."
She took a small glass vial of rabbit blood and placed it before him.
"Touch it. No focus. No will. Let your blood speak."
Kalen obeyed. His fingers brushed the glass—
—and the blood inside shimmered, rose, and began to move.
Not randomly. With intent.
Spinning in symbols. Reflecting the world behind it.
And then—memories.
A rabbit in a trap. Its final breath. The sharp snap of bone. The scent of cold metal.
Kalen gasped and staggered back.
Annabell's eyes narrowed.
"Blood Seer. And more."
"You have awakened the first three paths: Blood Manipulation, Healing, and Sight."
"Be careful. The blood remembers everything. And it does not always tell the truth."
Warning in the Snow
Annabell turned her back.
"Each time you call blood, it calls something back."
"Use it too freely… and your blood may no longer be yours."
Kalen's fingers trembled.
He didn't understand it all—but he understood one thing.
Power was not a gift
It was a burden waiting to fall.