Page 4 of The Enchanted Frost

His brow furrowed. “It appears you’re awake.” Awkwardness filled each haltered word that suggested he was unaccustomed to interacting with others, yet I drank them in eagerly; it had been so long since anyone had spoken to me except with impatience and condescension. For all my former expertise in conversation, I’d had little practice in the art this past year.

I could only stare at this almost angelic stranger. He advanced a hesitant step, bringing his features further into the light. My breath caught. Not only was he strikingly handsome, but he exuded an otherworldly aura that only reinforced the notion that I must have died. From the fuzzy snippets of my fragmented memory, I recalled glimpsing his pure white hair, ashen skin the color of fallen snow, and startling blue eyes just before I’d lost consciousness.

“What happened? Where am I?” My voice tentative emerged, raspy from disuse.

“You froze to death,” he said simply.

My sharp gasp escaped as a fleeting puff in the frigid air. “Froze to death?”

He winced, as if just realizing his frank assessment had been too direct, and offered a tentative nod.

Due to delirium, it was a struggle to make sense of the words that were at odds with my current awareness that made me feel very much alive. “So I’m dead after all?”

For as long as I’d fought to survive, I didn’t have the energy to be more emotional over this turn of events. I wriggled my fingers experimentally. Though the stiffness from the cold restricted the movement, I seemed to be in possession of my senses, making it appear that I hadn’t succumbed to death.

He seemed to sense my unspoken confusion. “I believe you’re in a state of in-between,” he explained. “Humans cannot otherwise enter a structure crafted by an immortal.”

These baffling words managed to penetrate the thick fog that had been clouding my senses ever since I’d awoken. “Human?Immortal?”

He nodded. “Despite that, for some reason I still struggled to claim your soul.”

The longer this surreal conversation extended, the more convinced I became that I must be dreaming. Any moment now I expected to awaken huddled in the cold, dim alley where my last vivid memory had taken place.

As the last wisps of unconsciousness faded, I gradually became aware of the room's breathtaking splendor—a sanctuary sculpted entirely from snow and ice. Momentarily forgetting the confusing conversation, I turned my head to take in my incredible surroundings. Every piece—from the elegantly carved chairs to the gleaming tables—was a masterpiece of frozen artistry, reflecting the delicate lattice patterns and intricate carvings as if each were a frost-kissed jewel, a testament to the magical craftsmanship that had brought it into existence.

Elaborate frostwork adorned the walls, enhancing the faint light that filtered through the crystalline surfaces. The light shimmered in soft, iridescent hues, creating a mesmerizinginterplay of light and shadow whose patterns danced like delicate snowflakes caught in a gentle winter breeze.

For a moment awe captured all speech before I finally found my voice. “Where is this place?”

“My Winter Kingdom.”

True to its name, the elegant setting seemed to have emerged straight from the pages of the storybooks from my haunting past, as if I had been transported into a dream.

“How did I get here? Wasn’t I just—”

“I carried you after you fell unconscious.”

“You…carried me?” A frigid breeze blew through the partially open window, cutting through my thin, damp rags and sending a shiver across my body—miserable sensations that contradicted my earlier assumption that I was no longer alive.

Worry tightened his expression. “I wish there was something I could do to warm you, but my magic specializes in creating cold, not dispelling it.” He cast his uncertain gaze about the room, as if half-hoping a source of heat would magically materialize.

I held up my arm, only just now noticing the purplish splotches marring my skin. “What’s this?”

“A sign of frostbite.”

I lightly traced the blisters patterning my pale arm, icy to the touch but surprisingly less painful than I expected, as if the damage had halted midway when I became trapped in this in-between state he claimed I now inhabited. He watched me with a helpless expression before bridging the distance to crouch beside me.

“I wonder if there’s a way to reverse the magic I use to create cold…”

I flinched away from his reach, but he gently took hold of my arm, undeterred by my resistance. I wanted to be angry at his impertinence, but I lacked the energy.

He conjured a sphere of glistening aqua light and carefully spread it across my arm, bringing with it a cooling sensation. At first nothing happened, but he persisted. I caught my breath as I noticed that wherever the light touched the frostbite gradually faded, like ice melting in the sun.

His lips curved up. “It appears to be working.”

I gaped, transfixed, before slowly lifting my gaze. “Who are you?”

“Frost, the King of Winter.” He answered my question almost absentmindedly, his focus concentrated on his spell.

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