Page 25 of The Snow Queen

No one but the gods.

It was the very definition of their nature: they were called gods because they, unlike anyone else, could create – simple as that.

The fairer goddess turned towards them, and seemed surprised as she took in the sight of the sad bunch of shivering elves.

“Sorry, my bad. I forgot I was supposed to warm you up.”

Then, she gave those who’d questioned her authenticity an irrevocable proof.

Her amber eyes flashed gold and the snow on the path instantly melted, replaced by fresh, green grass.

“I can't stop the storm, but walking should be easier now. Hurry up.”

It was just as freezing, but the villagers’ spirit lifted, warmed by an injection of hope. Persephone carried on ahead, snow melting before her feet, leaving them a clear path.

Then unexpectedly, shortly after, it stopped snowing, blowing and storming.

They could see the path ahead now: in the distance, shining like it was made of silver and glass, there was a city.

Kai had travelled everywhere on Gaia, and he'd never seen anything like it. Columns, high edifices, finely sculpted murals, all made of glass – or, more likely, ice. Every single home he saw from his point of view might have been crafter for a King.

“Skadia,” Aphrodite announced, admiration clear in her tone. “Perhaps not the warmest city in Gaia, but certainly one of the most exquisite.”

By then, everyone was half running; they reached the deserted street, eyes wide open in bewilderment.

There was no one, not a single soul, but those elegant, shinny homes must belong tosomeone.

Didn’t they?

His exploration of the first building led him to believe otherwise. This place had never been used, he would have sworn it; nothing showed any wear, from the kitchen to the bedrooms. While each house was furnished – with strange, unique beds and chairs which, for all their beauty, didn’t seem all that comfortable, given the fact that they were crafter in blocks of ice. They also lacked linens, cushions, furs; things people would have needed.

He came out with more questions than answers; the first one being, where wasshe?

“The ladies have left that way,” Fyn told him, pointing to the end of the main street.

He nodded his thanks, before pointing to the house he’d just checked.

“Set up a camp in this one,” he ordered; it was plenty large enough for all of them. “Get some rest. I’ll do a round, see that the city is safe.”

By that, he meant he'd planned on tailing to goddesses who'd hurried north, to find Eira and take her in his arms.

He had questions, loads of them, but believing he'd been about to die had redefined his priority.

Hugs first, torture and inquisition, later.

He caught up with the strangers when they'd made it in front of a humongous, imposing, and completely frozen palace he might have admired, if he could have forced his gaze away from what laid at its feet for long enough.

Eira was on the ground, completely white, down to the tip of her usually dark hair. He might have believed she had been a statue, if her chest wasn't riding and falling.

She was breathing. She was alive.

Bear, Aphrodite and Persephone fussed around her, the first one licking her face – which was kinda gross – as the others covered her with their own jackets, warming up her arms and legs.

But they were smart: when he fell next to her and pulled her into his arms, they let him.

“She's going to be alright, right?”

The women exchanged a glance hedidn'tlike, before one of them replied.

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