Time had passed with the gentle rhythm of the seasons, and with it, Frost Delgard had grown—not only in age, but in soul.
After intense physical training with his father and extensive studies alongside his sister Liliana, he had learned to see the world through different eyes. However, his attention rarely strayed from one person: Lorraine.
That field of golden grass, where the wind danced between the stalks, had become their secret training ground. There, between laughter, clashing swords, and spells cast into the air, Frost and Lorraine forged a bond that time did not erode, but tempered.
Lorraine, her silver hair tousled by the breeze, smiled playfully as she twirled her wand with a small, teasing motion.
—Ready? —she said, tilting her head.
Frost raised his sword with his left hand and replied firmly:
—More than ever.
Without warning, several spheres of water shot from Lorraine's wand. They sparkled like pearls suspended in the air. Frost closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused his energy.
In his mind, only three words echoed: "Be cold… be cold." When he opened his eyes, a frozen glint flashed in his gaze. He spun swiftly and, with a single quick slash of his sword, froze and split each sphere in half, sending shards of water falling like pieces of a sky-born mirror.
Lorraine smiled in admiration as she gracefully dodged Frost's new icy attacks. Raising her wand, she launched sharp frost shards that sliced through the air.
Then, with a circular motion of her arms, she summoned a gust of wind that twisted like a furious serpent, turning into a tornado that violently shook the landscape, ripping leaves, bending the wheat, and lifting earth and petals in a spiral.
Frost was hurled back, rolling through the grass. Lorraine, from atop the whirlwind, called down playfully:
—And now what, apprentice?
Frost stood up with a grimace of frustration, rage bubbling beneath his skin.
—Don't brag yet, compass... —he muttered through clenched teeth.
Amid the chaos of the tornado, Frost raised his sword to the sky and channeled his anger. A wave of frost surged from his body, spreading through the air like a storm of ice.
The entire vortex began to freeze, slowing down until it stopped completely, becoming a gleaming frozen sculpture. Then Frost descended in a dive, driving the tip of his sword into the center of the field. As it touched the ground, a cold shockwave spread around him, freezing the grass in a wide radius.
Lorraine, startled by the sudden shift, slipped on the ice and fell on her back, laughing.
—This isn't over! —she shouted as she used magic to leap back up.
She formed a barrier of wind around herself as she rushed at Frost. He, without moving, raised his frozen sword and blew a cold breeze with a simple gesture. The current was enough to throw her off balance.
—Oh no! —cried Lorraine as she lost control in midair.
—Wait, Lorraine! —shouted Frost, leaping toward her.
He caught her mid-fall. In the air, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly and gently. They descended gracefully among the golden grasses, landing softly. Lorraine, still in Frost's arms, looked at him with a blushing smile.
—You're very close, Frost...
He stared into the depths of her blue eyes.
—A 'thank you' would've been nicer... —he whispered.
Without another word, Frost leaned in and kissed Lorraine's soft, damp lips. Their mouths melted together with passion and sweetness, sharing the salty taste of effort and the intimacy earned over time. It was a gesture that, through the years, had become as natural as their secret meetings.
When they were younger, the chemistry between them had been clumsy and unbalanced, full of tense silences and shy glances. But over time—through continued visits, lessons from the wise Elliott, and shared challenges—their bond had blossomed.
Frost had learned magic in secret, guided by Lorraine and his own stubbornness. In a world where magic was forbidden, he refused to follow rules he did not understand and instead sought to understand nature for himself.
The eyes of King Delgard, Liliana, and Fred began to notice. Frost often vanished during important hours; his absences became constant. One afternoon, Liliana followed him. She saw him surrounded by commoners and ordinary folk. She didn't report him, but warned him coldly:
—If our father finds out, don't expect me to help you.
Liliana didn't know her brother was immersed in learning forbidden magic.
When they first discovered his magical affinity—ice magic—using an enchanted crystal ball, Lorraine had only said:
—At last, a personal ice cream maker...
To which Frost replied with irony:
—Not even in your dreams, witch!
Now, at 19, Frost had already traveled to new lands, learned of cultures, legends, and forgotten secrets. While Liliana went off to study dimensional fissures at a prestigious academy of physics and astrology, Frost chose to stay in the kingdom. His soul searched for something more than scientific answers. He wanted to belong to something more intimate, more real.
On a quiet evening, along a path far from the noise, Frost and Lorraine rested among tall grasses. Her head lay on his chest, her expression peaceful.
—I love you... —she murmured, eyes closed.
But the kingdom's peace was about to shatter.
Some time ago, a messenger dragon from Hanimesh had arrived at the castle, bearing dire news. In a remote hill of the same kingdom, locals had started seeing a giant dragon freezing entire mountains, even though winter had not yet arrived.
Alarmed, King Delgard's advisors feared that this creature was an omen of destruction—the return of a primordial force capable of plunging the world into eternal ice.
The King began to have nightmares. In his dreams, he saw a world entirely frozen, life extinct, stars gone out, the sun and moon reduced to dead spheres. In the midst of that void, a winged creature—enormous, majestic—ruled the universe with its mere presence.
He awoke drenched in sweat, terrified.
Not long after, Fred led a squad into those snowy lands. The cold grew unbearable the deeper they went into the frozen forest. The trees creaked like glass about to shatter.
They reached a hill where animals were petrified in glistening ice, like eternal statues. The shiketusus fissures—temporal ruptures in space—were there, motionless, frozen, trapped in the presence of that unwanted guest.
Fred, seeing it all, whispered in horror:
—This... this doesn't belong...
They moved farther, until atop a hill white as ash, they saw the beast.
A gigantic dragon, its bluish scales shining under the sun's reflection, with monstrous claws, eyes glowing with unnatural light, and wings that seemed capable of darkening the sky. Its mere presence bent reality; its breath chilled the air for miles.
The dragon lowered its head toward the humans. Its voice echoed with a resonance that pierced the bones.
—What do you seek... humans?
The ice in its words was real. It wasn't just magic. It was a warning. It was the beginning of something that not even Frost Delgard was ready to face.
And so, the fate of the Kingdom began to tremble again, as ice walked slowly toward the heart of the world.
The hill trembled. Not from an earthquake, but from the sheer weight of the being that ruled over the frozen wasteland. The bluish dragon, immense, with scales shining like the purest and coldest crystal, looked down from above at the insignificant humans who dared to stand before him.
Its breath was a freezing mist that distorted the light, and its eyes, like two icy moons, observed all with an ancient, deep, and merciless judgment.
Fred, commander of the royal army, despite the cold that numbed his fingers and the fear that gripped his chest, did not take a single step back. He held the scroll firmly, his boots buried in the frost like determined roots.
—Hey, beast —he said, his voice cracking but firm—. I've been sent by King Delgard, third of his lineage, sovereign of this kingdom. We come seeking a message. I am Fred, commander general of the royal army…
The dragon exhaled a sigh that was more like a deathly wind, shaking all those present. The air itself seemed to freeze around them, suspended by the gravity of the creature. Its thoughts projected, uncontrollably.
None of these humans appear to be the Chi Tae user…
Then, its voice echoed like eternity itself.
—You do not interest me… bags of flesh. Bring me the Chi Tae user, and this will end.
It turned slowly, its steps rumbling like distant avalanches, ignoring them as if they were mere leaves in the wind. But Fred had not marched countless kilometers to return in silence.
—We came here with a warning! —he shouted, causing the dragon to pause, mildly curious.
—A warning? —said the dragon with a dry tone—. What for?
Fred unrolled the scroll with trembling fingers and began to read.
—As decreed by King Delgard: "Withdraw from our world. You are disrupting the natural order, the temperature, and the kingdom's stability. If you do not obey… you will be annihilated."
Fred's tone was formal, but what truly conveyed the message was not his voice—it was the content.
The king's words were filled with restrained fury, latent resentment, a wrath aimed at a creature he didn't even know. The message was no warning. It was a threat disguised as diplomacy.
Fred closed the scroll with a sharp snap and, looking directly at the beast, concluded:
—And if you don't obey my orders… I swear I'll rip out your heart and feast on it.
The dragon watched him. For an instant, the silence itself seemed to be a sentence. Then, without haste, it stepped forward. With each inch it advanced, the soldiers stepped back. All but Fred.
—Rip out my heart… me? —said the dragon with a low, icy laugh—. I think your cowardly king lacks the courage to come and say that in person.
Rising slightly on its legs, its shadow covered the entire squad.
—You are nothing but walking dust. I don't care… But tell your monarch this: I will not leave… until the Chi Tae user is delivered.
Its voice was a contained roar. A celestial edict that resonated in the consciousness of all.
Fred, his face frozen not by the weather but by the terror consuming him, only nodded.
—Very well… I'll let him know.
In the throne room, Fred knelt, and before King Delgard, he whispered everything that had happened. At the mention of the Chi Tae, the monarch's face tensed, as if that word were a ghost from the past.
—I see… —muttered the king gravely—. In that case… we'll take drastic measures. We prepare for the hunt.
The rain fell like a relentless veil over the royal city. The cobbled streets filled with puddles and children ran joyfully through the storm, seeking shelter. Through the mist of that rainy afternoon, two silhouettes ran through the crowd: Frost and Lorraine.
Laughing, soaked, and alive, they embraced as if they were the only ones in the world. Lorraine was his world. A witch, yes, but also his refuge. His truth.
Frost looked at her as the rain slid down her hair and her vibrant face.
—Marry me.
Lorraine stared at him, stunned.
—What…? What did you just say?
Frost took her hands firmly.
—I want you to marry me, Lorraine.
She stepped back, her expression a mix of fear and sorrow.
—Are you insane, Frost? You want me to marry you? That's impossible!
—It's not. You said you loved me, Lorraine, we can get married.
—And I love you, Frost… —she replied, lowering her gaze—. But… we can't. I'm a witch… a commoner. Your father would never accept it.
—I don't care! —he shouted, soul exposed—. I'd rather give it all up—my title, the throne, the kingdom… What good is having everything if I don't have you?
—Frost… —she whispered, coldly, with rain in her eyes—. Even as king, there are things you cannot control or obtain. The world doesn't always bend in your favor.
—Then let's run away. Far from here. Let's have a life… a family.
—We could live far from this kingdom, far from the people, the churches that forbid all things related to magic. You could be happy, by my side —said Frost, passionate and desperate for Lorraine.
But Lorraine gently shook her head.
—I'm sorry… I can't marry you. Not like this.
And she walked away, vanishing into the rain and fog, while Frost's heart was left alone in the storm.
—Lorraine, please —whispered Frost, filled with rejection.
That night, in the royal dining hall, dinner passed in silence. The table, once joyful and full of life when his mother was alive, now felt cold, like the marble it was made of.
Frost chewed in silence. King Delgard watched him.
—Frost… everything okay? You seem distant.
—Everything's normal… nothing important.
—You know you can tell me anything, right?
—I know… —he said without looking at him—. But I don't have anything to say yet.
The king smiled.
—Five years running and you still haven't confessed… It's normal to fall in love, son.
Frost tried to lie:
—Me? In love… not at all.
The king laughed.
—You think I was born yesterday, huh? I've fallen in love too. Though in the end… I regretted it.
Frost clenched his teeth. That sentence was a knife in his memory.
—I'm leaving… I have fencing classes.
—Hold it, young man. You're not leaving without my permission. I'm still your father. And your king.
He approached him.
—Maybe I haven't shown it… but I want to understand you more. Spend time with you.
Frost lowered his gaze.
—I don't want to disappoint you.
—You could never disappoint me. Because you're just like me. That's why… you're coming with me on the hunt.
—Hunt? For that dragon in that faraway city? —asked Frost, having little information in mind.
—And how do you know about that? I don't recall telling you —said the king, concerned and curious.
Then Frost answered softly to his father:
—Fred told me, dad.
—But aren't dragons immortal creatures with scales both indestructible and impenetrable? How are we supposed to kill that dragon?
Suddenly, King Delgard replied in his thoughts to Frost's revelation: Fred, you gossip. said the king, clicking his tongue in frustration.
—Exactly. Fred told you, huh? —he said with a half-smile—. Well… you'll come with me. It'll be our time together. And there will be special guests… beast hunters. Even dragon hunters—they'll know how to kill it.
—That sounds… interesting.
The king looked out the window.
—There are many interesting things in this world. And when we return… you'll introduce me to your beloved.
Frost swallowed hard.
—I'll find a solution.
The king nodded.
—As long as she's not a commoner… everything will be fine. Let her be of noble blood.
Frost replied:
—That… I can't promise you.
The king's response was dry, as cold as the dragon's threat.
—I'm not joking.
And so, the rift between father and son widened. The world was growing colder—and not only because of the dragon. It was the hearts of men that were beginning to freeze.
The wind blew fiercely that day. The kingdom's banners flew high atop the towers, and the sky was painted in a mix of gray clouds and golden light. It was a day that would be etched into the chronicles of the Realm: the royal hunt had begun.
Riding a mighty black-maned horse, King Delgard led the front, his golden armor gleaming with each shaft of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Behind him, a legion of hundreds of soldiers followed in solemn order.
Each hoofbeat of the horse echoed like a war drum, the finely trimmed hooves striking the ground with authority.
The kingdom's standards waved behind, and the townsfolk, packed on both sides of the royal road, saw him off with applause, cheers, and flower petals falling like blessings in the monarch's path.
Delgard was the embodiment of power and duty. With every one of his steps, soldiers formed lines and made way, bowing with the silence of the disciplined.
But not all preparations were in order.
Fred, rushing, made his way to the king, his face grave.
—Your Majesty —he said, breathless—. Prince Frost is missing. He vanished without a trace.
The king sighed deeply, tinged with resignation.
—What am I going to do with that boy? —he muttered, with a tired smile—
—He's probably with that girl… Don't worry about him, Fred. He'll show up. For now, let's meet our guests at the kingdom's edge.
On the other side of town, the sound of hooves over wet stone marked Frost's advance. He rode a noble warhorse, his armor sleek and sturdy, crafted for agility while clearly built for battle.
As he moved through the town's streets, his eyes met two familiar figures: Elliott and Lorraine. His heart skipped, and his horse stopped at the slightest pressure of his legs.
—Good morning, friends… —he said, trying to sound calm.
Elliott, as clear as ever, looked at him and said:
—You don't have to say anything. You're going to kill the dragon, aren't you?
Frost was surprised.
—How do you know? I don't recall mentioning it…
—No need. Your armor screams it. Besides, the whole town knows —Elliott shrugged.
He stepped away, giving them privacy. Lorraine lowered her gaze timidly, her cheeks tinged with a soft red.
—Be careful out there… And also… I'm sorry for what I said that day —Lorraine said impulsively.
Frost dismounted, stepping close.
—Don't worry about it. I love you, and that's that. If your decision is not to marry me, I'll accept it. It won't change how I feel about you.
Lorraine, her heart pounding, lifted her eyes and answered quickly:
—It's not a problem… I've made my decision. And yes… I want to marry you. But I won't give you an answer now. When you return, we'll talk about it.
Frost didn't wait. He embraced her tightly, his hands firm on her back.
—I promise you, Lorraine. When we're together, I won't let anything happen to you. You are the love of my life, my refuge in the heart of winter.
The kiss that followed was deep, warm. As if two souls merged beneath the gray sky.
—I wish you luck… —Lorraine said, her tears blending with the rain.
Mounting again, Frost gripped the reins and rode hard, a fire burning in his chest.
—Lorraine and I… we'll finally be together! —he shouted as he galloped forward.
At the great southern gate of the Realm, where the walls reached toward the skies and the stone bridge stretched like a colossus's arm into the horizon, a group of figures waited. Five warriors of imposing presence and faces weathered by impossible battles.
Among them, a being who dominated the scene: a towering elf, unnaturally tall, with long snow-white hair and an axe etched with glowing ancient runes.
Fred looked at them with distrust.
—Are you sure, Your Majesty, that these are the right ones?
King Delgard nodded.
—I told you, Fred. These are the finest beast hunters alive. Their deeds speak for themselves.
Fred scoffed.
—If you say so…
An elven archer, with a lazy gaze and a mocking smile, yawned as she looked to the sky.
—Your Majesty, I think your son overslept. He got scared and ran off…
Fred flushed red.
—How dare you speak like that about the prince!
The king calmly raised a hand.
—No need, Fred. My son will come. He doesn't fear what he has yet to face.
The giant elf, Trask, spoke in a deep voice:
—Your son… is he a warrior?
—He's much more than that —Delgard replied with restrained pride.
Then, a silhouette approached on the road. The sound of hooves, steady and firm, announced his arrival. Fred smiled.
—At last he arrives… Prince Frost.
Frost stopped in front of everyone.
—Sorry I'm late. I had some matters to resolve.
Fred, sarcastically:
—Oh yeah? What kind of matters?
—Matters, Fred. Period.
Trask stood and raised his voice:
—Now that he's here, we must depart. Three days' journey. Move out.
Fred snorted:
—And who put you in charge, big guy?
King Delgard sighed as he passed him.
—For God's sake, Fred… let the professionals do their job.
—That offends me… —Fred muttered.
Frost passed him with a crooked smile.
—This mission isn't for the faint-hearted. Hope you brought diapers, just in case, Fred.
Fred swallowed his pride and rode in silence.
—I shouldn't have told them everything that happened when I went to deliver that message to the dragon —Fred said, regretting it deeply.
He remembered how he trembled when speaking to the king after meeting the dragon, shaking so much his soul nearly left his body, while several guards held him up in a cold sweat:
—Commander Fred! Don't go toward the light, please! —said a guard, dripping sweat, while Frost's soul seemed to shrink and slip out.
They advanced. Through green hills, golden meadows, and open skies. The sound of hooves and the creaking of wooden carts joined the wind.
Frost, curious, observed the mercenary group, especially the giant Trask.
—So this is an elf… Never pictured them like that.
Then, distracted, his gaze wandered to the elf mage of the group. Her neckline was generous, her chest abundant. Watching her ride, Frost blushed violently.
The mage's breasts, beneath her black robe, bounced like two gelatinous melons.
—No, no, no! I only have eyes for Lorraine! —he shouted to himself, shaking his head.
Far away, deep within the frozen mountains, the great dragon rested. Its blue scales shimmered like glaciers under the moonlight. Its voice echoed through the cavern like a contained thunder:
—The Chi Tae user… is finally on his way.
On Frost's left hand, without him noticing, a glowing mark began to form. A snowflake tattooed with ancient symbols, pulsing with each gallop of his horse.
The dragon smiled, if such a thing were possible.
—But to take him… I may need to make a few sacrifices.
And then, winter rose with silent force.
The hunt had begun—no, rather, the death and the birth of a curse were about to seep into the world.