Page 17 of The Enchanted Frost

His eyes widened with disbelief, as if unsure whether he had heard me correctly. A bashful smile slowly appeared on his lips, dispelling the lingering shadows and lighting up hiseyes. “You really want to see me create them? I want nothing more than to show humans how beautiful winter truly is.”

He seized my hand and led me back through the halls. As we passed his workroom, I peeked inside to see his workbench neat and waiting, his tools at the ready.

“Do you ever take a break from your work of sustaining winter?” I asked.

He looked at me, puzzled. “It’s my life’s purpose.”

“What about when winter is…gone? During the other seasons, do you just remain in your kingdom and wait for winter to return?”

He looked slightly amused but answered me seriously. “I do stay where it is always winter, but I don’t pause in my work. During the other three seasons, I have plenty to do—crafting snowflakes, creating a schedule for storms and other wintry weather, and studying to hone my craft. I also add magical fortifications to my palace to keep it…strong.” He said the last word softly, looking troubled. “Open the door next to my workbench.”

Curiously I twisted the frozen doorknob and pushed it open. Unlike the icy opulence I’d seen throughout most of the palace, this spacious chamber was simple and serviceable, stretching almost as far as I could see. The walls were lined with ice chests, transparent enough to reveal the countless snowflakes protected within. A calendar hung on the wall, neatly marked with what I assumed was Frost’s weather schedule. Along the ceiling floated miniature clouds, heavy with snow and waiting to be expanded and sent out. Huge blocks of solid ice were stacked in a corner, ready for use in his craftsmanship.

I stared in amazement. While I had finally accepted Frost’s identity, I was still awed at this display of his immense power, his control over a season that affected every living thing.

I could have spent hours exploring all of his work, but Frost beckoned to me, an eager sparkle in his eyes. He took my hand again, leading me to the vast window overlooking the snowy landscape. His skin was cold, but I noticed a difference—not only was it not as frigid as the first time our hands had touched, but it seemed to stoke a part of my heart I’d never noticed before.

Whatever my young imaginings had fantasized when imagining the process that created the frosted designs across my window was nothing to the enchantment of the experience as it unfolded before me.

As dusk’s first light began to filter through the curtains, Frost approached the pane with an artist’s grace. With a wave of his hand, a delicate breath of icy air spiraled from his fingertips, alighting onto the glass. Instantly, the windowpane began to transform beneath his touch. He moved with purpose and precision, his icy fingers trailing over the shimmering surface to create swirling arabesques and geometric designs that intertwined seamlessly.

Intricate patterns emerged as delicate tendrils of frost wove their way across the glass, directed by the king who watched with great concentration as the frost spread. The tendrils curled and branched out like the finest lace, each pattern unique and detailed. Fern-like fronds unfurled, their edges crisp and precise, catching the rosy evening light in a dance of crystalline beauty. Stars and flowers of frost bloomed alongside each other, their petals glistening with a soft, silvery glow. The frost patterns seemed almost alive, growing and expanding with an organic grace that belied their frozen nature.

Each stroke was a testament to his skill and creativity, transforming the ordinary window into a canvas of winter's artistry. The sunlight filtered through the frosted glass, casting refracting light into a myriad of colors,making the patterns sparkle and dance in a mesmerizing display.

When he finished, Frost stepped back to admire the enchanting scene before eagerly seeking my gaze for my approval. For a long moment I couldn’t speak, bound by the reverence that had accompanied his creative display. Finally my voice emerged as a breath of wonder. “I’ve never witnessed something so magical. I wish I could experience it for myself.”

I envied him not just for his powers and skill, but for the passion that filled his vast expanse of time. In contrast, my life felt utterly meaningless, marked by my endless pursuit of fleeting pleasures without any real joy.

A pleasant shiver tiptoed across my skin from his breath tickling my neck as he leaned closer. “Would you like to create magic for yourself? I could help you, if you wish.”

My breath caught. “Is that possible?”

“While trapped in this state of in-between, your soul—while not immortal—is no longer entirely human…as evidenced from the single spark of magic you manifested earlier.” A mischievous glint sparkled his eyes as he angled his body towards mine. “Are you ready?” His voice was a cool whisper, echoing the chill of winter.

I nodded with a mix of curiosity and excitement. It’d only taken a single demonstration to ignite my fascination with Frost’s magic—his ability to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary with a single touch that made me yearn to experience it for myself.

He took my hands in his, his touch cool but gentle. “I will bestow a portion of my power to stoke the glimmer you received when your soul entered this realm.” I drew in my breath as an aqua glow enfolded my hands, leaving my skin tingling as it faded. “Close your eyes and feel the magic inside you, like a cold river flowing through your veins.”

I obeyed, my eyes fluttering shut. I focused on the sensation, feeling the cool energy that radiated from Frost’s hands seeping into my own.

“Now imagine that cold spreading through your fingers down to the tips. Picture the patterns you want to create, the intricate designs that will form on the glass.”

My brow furrowed slightly as I concentrated, visualizing delicate snowflakes and swirling icy tendrils.

“Good,” Frost murmured, his voice a gentle guide. “Now, open your eyes and place your hands on the windowpane.”

I did as instructed, pressing my palms against the cold glass. At first, nothing happened and I felt a flicker of doubt. But then, I felt a tingling sensation, as if a delicate breath of frost was beginning to awaken beneath my touch.

Frost leaned closer, his breath cool against my ear as he whispered. “Relax and let the magic flow naturally. Don’t force it.”

I released my tension with a trembling breath. I felt the magic respond, more eagerly this time as it flowed out of me and onto the glass. The whisper of frost began to spread, delicate crystalline patterns unfurling across the windowpane. I gasped in disbelief as swirling vines of ice and snowflakes blossomed beneath my fingers, each one unique and beautiful. I glanced at my hands in wonder; was this the first time I had used them to create rather than simply taking what others had made?

My eyes widened with delight as I watched the frost grow, the patterns becoming more elaborate and intricate. Frost smiled, his icy blue eyes soft. “It’s all about feeling the magic and letting it guide you.”

He placed his hands beside mine on the window and together we created a breathtaking tapestry of frost. The designs merged and intertwined, forming a stunning work of art that sparkled in the light, a magical frozen garden.

For a moment, we stood in silence, admiring our creation, the warmth of our shared moment contrasting with the chill of the magic. “Thank you for sharing your world with me,” I murmured.

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