Page 64 of Fire & Ice

"Beau, you don't understand," she pleaded, her gaze locked on the prince's. "What's done is done. Tempest is lost. You can’t change the past."

"Watch me," he hissed, his wrath reaching its boiling point. In one swift motion, Beau released Deakon and extended his arm toward Sara. A frigid wave of energy erupted from his fingertips, enveloping her entirely.

Sara gasped, her body shuddering as a numbing cold began to creep through her veins. She tried to resist, but the sensation was relentless, like the grip of a thousand icy hands clawing at her insides.

"Beau, stop!" Deakon cried out, lunging forward to intervene. But it was too late. The damage was done, and there was no turning back now.

"Did you truly think you could manipulate me?" Beau taunted, his breath visible in the chilled air. "You should know better than that, Sara. I am no puppet to be played with, I would have thought that Tempest taught you that lesson."

As the last vestiges of warmth ebbed away, leaving her paralyzed and helpless, Sara managed one final, desperate plea. "Please… no..."

"Tempest is safe from your treachery," Beau snarled, watching as life drained from Sara's eyes. "And I will never be yours to control."

Deakon's face contorted in a mixture of grief and rage, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "You monster!”

"Save your accusations," Beau shot back, his own emotions simmering beneath the surface. "I did what had to be done. For Tempest."

As Sara's frozen form crumpled to the floor, lifeless and cold, Deakon stared at her in disbelief, the enormity of his loss settling like a lead weight upon his chest.

Grief and rage surged through Deakon, a tempestuous storm that consumed his very being. The sight of Sara's lifeless body at his feet only fueled his determination to make Beau pay for his monstrous actions.

"Beau!" he roared, lunging forward with a newfound ferocity. "You will suffer for this!"

"Your threats mean nothing to me," Beau retorted, his voice cold as ice. But deep within those blue eyes, a flicker of uncertainty betrayed his stoic façade.

Deakon struck first, his fists connecting with Beau's face in a brutal blow that sent him sprawling backward. Blood dripped down from Beau's split lip, staining the pristine snow beneath them.

"Pathetic," Deakon spat, advancing upon his fallen adversary. "Is that all you have?" Beau taunted, wiping the blood away from his mouth. "And you call me pathetic?"

"Silence!" Deakon roared, unleashing another series of vicious blows. He fought like a man possessed, each strike fueled by the pain and loss he felt deep within.

But Beau was not so easily defeated. His icy powers coursed through his veins, lending him an unnatural strength and resilience. He parried Deakon's onslaught, their battle raging on amidst the frozen landscape.

"Enough!" Beau bellowed, seizing the upper hand. With a swift, calculated move, he ensnared Deakon in an icy grip, pinning him to the ground. "This ends now."

"Tempest...will never...awaken," Deakon gasped, struggling against the crushing weight of Beau's hold.

"Then neither will you," Beau replied, his voice devoid of emotion. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed a hand upon Deakon's chest.

Deakon's eyes widened in terror as he felt an icy chill begin to spread from the point of contact. It seeped into his very soul, a relentless force that threatened to strip him of his essence.

"Beau... don't..." he whispered, desperation evident in every word. But his plea fell on deaf ears, for Beau was already gone – consumed by the darkness that now held sway over his heart.

"Goodbye, Deakon," Beau murmured, his voice barely audible above the howling wind. And with that final utterance, he drained the last of Deakon's essence, leaving nothing but an empty shell of the man who had once been his greatest rival.

As life ebbed from Deakon's body, his eyes locked onto Sara's frozen form, the last image he would ever see. Then, with one final shudder, he too succumbed to the cold embrace of death.

And there they lay, united in their demise, victims of a power far greater than any they had ever known.

As Beau's dark power coursed through Deakon, their connection intensified. He could sense Deakon's every thought and emotion – his fear, his love for Sara, his hatred for Beau himself. It was a heady cocktail that fueled Beau's hunger for more.

"Please... Beau," Deakon whispered hoarsely, each word a knife in his throat. The pain in his eyes mirrored Sara's, frozen and helpless beside him. "Don't take everything. Leave me something to remember her by."

Beau smiled cruelly; his once tender heart now encased in ice. "You won't need memories where you're going, Councilman," he hissed, relishing the torment in the nobleman's face as he tightened his grip on the man's very essence.

"Ah, such anguish," Beau murmured, savoring the taste of Deakon's suffering like a fine wine. It was intoxicating, this newfound power – the ability to absorb not just the life force of his enemies, but their deepest fears and desires as well. It was as if he were devouring their very souls, leaving them hollow and devoid of any warmth or light.

"Let it go," he whispered into Deakon's ear, his breath hot against the nobleman's skin. He could feel Deakon's essence beginning to unravel, the threads of his being slipping away like silk through his fingers. "Release yourself to me."

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