Page 47 of Jilted By Jack Frost

We’re not destroying his power, I realize.We’re transforming it.

I stumble back as Gabriel launches another attack, forcing Jack and me to break apart. Our joined hands slip away from each other as we dodge in opposite directions. Losing contact leaves me cold and hollow inside.

“You can’t dance forever!” Gabriel snarls, hurling a barrage of ice daggers at me.

I throw up my hands instinctively. A burst of golden light erupts from my palms, melting his projectiles into harmless droplets. Across the room, Jack deflects Gabriel’s frost with precise movements, his own ice magic crackling through the air.

“Jack!” I call out, watching him weave and pivot. His eyes meet mine and understanding passes between us. We start moving toward each other, dodging and countering Gabriel’s increasingly desperate attacks.

The moment our fingers touch again, that incredible sensation returns—like a perfect winter morning, crisp yet somehow warm.

Each blast Gabriel sends our way transforms into something beautiful rather than destructive. Ice daggers become delicate snowflakes. Deadly frost turns to intricate crystal patterns in the air.

“You only saw what you wanted to see.” Jack’s voice rumbles through me where our hands connect. “Just like you twisted everything else to serve your purposes.”

I squeeze Jack’s hand.He needs to know. “The prophecy wasn’t about destruction. It was about change—necessary change.”

“The old ways crumbling...” Jack’s eyes widen with understanding.

“Because they needed to.” The words flow through me with absolute certainty. “Winter isn’t meant to be isolated. It’s part of a cycle.”

Gabriel backs away, his face contorting. “No. I won’t let centuries of work be undone by some mortal.”

He raises both hands, and the temperature plummets. Ice crawls up the walls, darker and sharper than anything I’ve seen in this realm. Jack steps closer to me, our joined magic creating a protective sphere around us.

“Your healing nature.” Jack’s voice is soft despite the chaos. “That’s what I felt from the beginning. What I fought against because I thought it would weaken my power.”

“When really, it completes it.”

The truth of it sings through our connected magic. This is what was always meant to be—not destruction, but balance. Not weakness, but strength shared.

Gabriel snarls and hurls himself forward, as ice shards attack us from all sides. A blade of black ice is forming in his hand like a jagged dagger pulled from the depths of winter itself. Our combined magic meets his attack, but he pushes through, aiming straight for my heart.

“Violet!” Jack’s voice cracks with desperation as he shoves me aside, his hands rough against my ribs.

The ice blade catches him in the shoulder instead of my chest, the sickening sound of it tearing through flesh and muscle making my stomach lurch. Dark blood wells up, staining his white shirt crimson. He stumbles backward, and our magical connection snaps like a thread pulled too tight.

Gabriel’s triumphant laugh echoes off the ice walls as Jack falls to one knee, his face twisted in pain.

Fuck. This is my fault. All my fucking fault.

“Still so predictable, brother. Always trying to protect others.” Gabriel twists the blade, and Jack groans. “Now watch as I finish what I started.”

He turns toward me, another blade forming, but I don’t back away. The power still hums under my skin, different without Jack’s touch but no less real. I am a healer, not just of bodies, but of magic itself.

I lunge toward Jack, my fingers stretching desperately to reach him.

The moment my fingers brush Jack’s arm, power surges between us. His eyes meet mine, and understanding flows without words. The connection feels different now—not just winter’s chill, but something deeper, like roots stretching through frozen soil seeking life.

Trust me, I think, and somehow I know he hears it.

Jack’s hand closes over mine. The black ice in his shoulder begins to glow where my fingers touch it, transforming from Gabriel’s corrupt magic into something pure.

“Impossible.” Gabriel’s blade wavers. “You can’t—”

“Can’t what?” My free hand reaches toward him. “Can’t heal what you’ve broken? Can’t restore what you’ve twisted?”

The power flowing through me feels ancient and new all at once. Every injury I’ve ever treated, every life I’ve helped save, it wasn’t just medical training. It was preparation for this.

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