Frost and Ember

Pain... That was all she felt. Immense, all-consuming pain.

It tore through her, both physically and mentally, until she felt as though every part of her being... her very soul was being torn apart. She was gravely injured, bleeding, on the verge of death. Her blood defiled the pristine white of the snow beneath her, dyeing it a deep shade of crimson.

Her hair was scattered across the snow like spilled black ink, its dark strands gradually disappearing beneath the relentless snowfall. Her golden eyes, once bright enough to rival the morning sun, had grown dim, staring blankly at the gray sky above. Her eyes held nothing now but apathy and a disregard for everything... Even her own life. For she simply waited for death to claim her.

This was Estella Montharne, the heir of Silvervale, a territory ruled by the Montharne family.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to now call her "The former heir of Silvervale."

She took a breath and shuddered at the pain of it. The cold was unbearable, so much so that breathing itself became agony. Every inhale felt like breathing in shattered glass, carving a painful path down her chest.

She coughed and then attempted to draw in a deeper breath, but another fit seized her instead. By the time it subsided, a sharp ache had settled deep within her lungs, leaving her no choice but to return to short, ragged breaths.

She groaned in pain. Tears flowed out of her emotionless eyes, tracing warm paths down the side of her face, towards her ears. For a fleeting moment, their warmth was almost comforting in this cruel cold, a fragile reminder that she was still alive.

Then the tears slowed, hardening into delicate beads of ice before they could fall. Frost clung to her raven-black lashes, making each blink slower and heavier than the last. She tried to blink, but her eyelashes clung together beneath the thin layer of frost, parting only after a painful effort.

Estella had done nothing wrong. She wasn't injured by her enemies, nor was she being punished. Rather, her own family had done this to her, her fiancé and her father, to be exact.

“Betrayal doesn't come from your enemies, it comes from your closest allies.”

She finally understood that quote.

The memory of that morning flashed through her mind: Darius embracing her to celebrate their victory over a major foe, her father smiling at her from a distance. Then they told her they wanted to show her something near the precipice. Although she still felt drowsy from an illness she had suffered a few months prior, she went along anyway. Other memories blurred past until she reached the part where Darius embraced her from behind. Noticing he was unusually affectionate that day, she leaned into it, pleased by the attention.

Then she felt it. A sharp pain in her lower abdomen, and Darius's grip turning from gentle to rough, full of malice.

She felt indescribable shock and fear, though she tried to convince herself it wasn't him, that it had to be an enemy instead. But she knew that was a lie. The hand that drove the dagger into her was her lover's. It was like a phantasm carved in the flesh. A living nightmare.

Her father only stared at her coldly, his gaze devoid of any warmth a parent should hold for their child, before covering her mouth to muffle her scream and speaking the words that would forever haunt her.

“If only you had been born a man instead.”

The rest of what he said, Estella could not remember. She could only watch, helpless, as he twisted the dagger still lodged in her stomach, inflicting fresh agony before he wrenched it free and walked away.

Then it was Darius, whom she had trusted, who pushed her off. His gaze carried no guilt. Only the insecurity of a man whose pride had been wounded.

She had truly believed he was her Nightbound, her intended. She had believed he was the love of her life, the perfect husband she had always dreamed of. Darius Hale had been everything she had ever wished for. Handsome. Gentle. Charismatic.

She had trusted him without question. She had placed her life on the line for him, had killed for him, had given him her trust, her body, her heart... Her everything. And this was the same man who drove a dagger into her stomach. When their eyes met in that moment, she saw no love in them, no regret. All she saw was the look one might give a tool that had outlived its worth.

A rusty, faulty, old tool.

Estella closed her eyes. Even now, she could still remember his smile. The warmth of his touch. The promises he had whispered in her ear beneath the night sky.

Every kiss.

Every vow.

Everything.

All of it was a lie.

The betrayal shattered her very being. Those who were meant to love her most had become the instruments of her death.

She had been loyal to Silvervale, loyal to her family, loyal to everything she thought mattered. She had trained relentlessly to be worthy of the Montharne name. She had risked her life more than once to make her father proud. But all of that... Was for naught.

From the start, they had only seen her as a tool to be discarded.

She watched his figure grow more and more distant as she plummeted. She remembered the wind rushing past her as she fell. She remembered the desperate flailing, the instinctive grasp for anything to hold onto, before the clouds swallowed her whole and she lost consciousness. When she woke, she found that she was still alive, lying in the snow with a few broken bones. She wondered how she survived, but thought it was the snow cushioning her fall. But that was nothing to be grateful of, for it was more of a curse than a blessing.

And so she lay there, tearfully waiting to be turned into a frozen corpse, enduring nothing but an endless torment of cold, asking herself what she did wrong, but failed to come up with an answer. Life had become so agonizing that she no longer wanted to live. She would have ended her pathetic existence herself if she could. But she could no longer feel her fingers or her legs. She stayed there for a long time.

*******

How long had it been? Hours? Days? Time had lost all meaning in this frozen wasteland. For all she knew was the cold, the pain, the suffering, and the creeping numbness that was gradually stealing sensation from her, both physical and emotional.

Then she heard it: the crunch of snow, faint at first, but growing steadily closer. Something was coming, and whatever it was, it was heading straight toward her. The Frozen Wasteland marked the border between Silvervale and Frostveil, though the land belonged mostly to the latter, which meant whatever approached was more likely to be an enemy than a rescuer. Or worse, an animal searching for prey.

Then, through the veil of falling snow, she caught sight of a tall silhouette in the distance. Its features remained slightly obscured by the raging blizzard, leaving only a dark outline visible to her. From the shape of it, she could tell it was a male.

With every step, the figure grew clearer, its imposing form more distinct as it closed the distance between them.

Then it came to a halt, just a few feet away. For a long moment, the figure said nothing, only watching her in silence.

The blizzard continued to rage between them, veiling the stranger's face beneath a curtain of swirling snow. Estella squinted, desperately trying to make out his features, but the frost clinging to her lashes and the tears clouding her vision reduced him to little more than a dark silhouette.

All she could make out were his glowing blue eyes. His gaze was cold enough to rival an ancient glacier. It remained fixed upon her without the slightest flicker of emotion, causing an inexplicable unease to settle in the pit of her stomach.

Then the wind blew and the hood of his cloak was thrown back.

Estella's eyes widened in horror. Even with her vision poor at the moment, she could still make out the outline of his face. A face she would never be able to forget.

Silvery gray hair, pale skin, eyes of frosty blue that seemed capable of freezing the soul of anyone who dared gaze into them for too long, a handsome face that did not match his devilish nature, sword-shaped brows, a sharp jawline...

A man she had tried to kill countless times.

...And the man who had tried to kill her too.

If Darius had become the demon of her nightmares, then this man... This man would be the devil himself.

He was Adrian Lykas. The infamous Lord of the South. The Alpha of Frostveil... And her sworn enemy.

Silent hatred and seething rage burned behind Estella's eyes, layered beneath a thin veneer of apathy, the look of someone with nothing left to lose. And yet she still felt a faint thread of unease. No one, she supposed, could feel entirely at ease with their sworn enemy standing over them, even on the verge of death.

“What—” She couldn't complete her sentence as a violent cough seized her frail body. Fresh blood stained the corner of her mouth. She took a few rapid breaths to stabilize herself before continuing.

“What are you doing here... You vile thing...” she said weakly.

Adrian remained silent, the coldness in his eyes matching her apathy so closely that they might have been mistaken to be a dead man's.

“Does it matter?” he said, his voice pitched like a whisper... yet far more audible than one, eloquent and full of quiet finesse. His eyes assessed her sorry state, and Estella did not miss the brief flicker of satisfaction that crossed those otherwise emotionless eyes.

Estella's lips had turned a pale bluish-purple, split in several places where the bitter wind had stolen every trace of moisture. Tiny cracks marked their surface, and every little movement reopened them, leaving faint smears of crimson that quickly froze against her skin.

Her cheeks were drained of color beneath a dusting of frost. Her fingers were frozen and curled. Even keeping her eyes open seemed exhausting to her.

“I am impressed you lasted this long. In this condition of yours, many would have died long ago...” He tilted his head, his expression morphing into one of false pity, one he didn't bother to hide. “But then again, you were always so stubborn, Estella.” His eyes shifted to a different shade of blue.

“Even now, half-dead...” He leaned slightly. “... And shivering, still... You glare at me with those fiery eyes of yours.”

“It is none of your concern... Begone. Your very existence repulses me.”

Adrian ignored her and took a few steps closer. “Tell me...” He tilted his chin upward, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly into the faintest mockery. “What hurts more? The pain you are in or the fact that the man you trusted most did this to you?”

Those words struck her like barbs tightening around her heart, and her eyes stung with sudden tears and fury. Estella's glare intensified. If looks could kill, Adrian Lykas would have dropped dead where he stood. Still, she said nothing. She had little strength left to argue with him.

“Tell me. What does it feel like, being discarded and hurt by the very people who were supposed to want you?”

Her lips quivered. She knew the answer to that. It hurt. It hurt so much that her heart felt shattered into a thousand pieces, so much that she wondered if falling in love was a mistake. But she would never admit that to him. Not ever.

“S-shut up.” she said in a shaky voice.

Adrian said nothing for a moment, his gaze moving over her with an intensity so great that her frail, shivering frame seemed to be the only thing reflected in his cold eyes.

“I have no love for you. But leaving you to die in the snow would be a waste. It offends me more than I expected. Especially when I am not the cause of it.” His eyes seemed to have blue flames nestling in them as he said those words.

“That's why—”

“No.” Estella coldly cut him off, already knowing where this was going. “I don't care what deal you have... I would rather die than owe you anything. I want nothing... Absolutely nothing to do with you, Lykas. If you won't kill me now, then go. Just go, and stop tormenting me...” She said it between heavy, labored breaths. Her mind drifted in and out like fading echoes, struggling to hold on to a single coherent thought. She could feel her consciousness fading, and she hoped, she desperately hoped, that she would die at last.

Something flickered behind his pale eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Then, without a word, he began approaching her with long, powerful strides. The apathy Estella felt vanished for a brief moment, replaced by a flicker of fear.

What was he going to do to her?

She had no strength to fight back, or even to move. She was utterly helpless, entirely at his mercy. Her teeth chattered, not just from the cold, but from the sudden, dawning realization of just how dire her situation truly was. If Adrian wanted to do anything to her, she wouldn't be able to resist.

Her mind conjured every horrible scenario at once, every story she had ever heard of what men like him did to enemies too weak to fight back. She had seen what Frostveil left behind on the battlefield. She knew exactly what he was capable of. Only the gods knew what he intended to do to her before she took her last breath. She didn't want to be defiled by him.

“Wait—” Her voice broke into something desperate, something she barely recognized as her own. “What are you going to do to me? Are you... Are you going to abuse my corpse when I die?”

Adrian froze mid-step, profound disbelief etched across his face. For a moment he only stared at her, then let out a short chuckle.

“I don't know what kind of monster you think I am, Estella. But I don't have that kind of fetish. I prefer them warm and fresh, not a stiff, frozen corpse.” he said, unaware of how strange that admission sounded.

Estella didn't answer. She couldn't. Her head had already begun to spin. A brief wave of weightlessness overcame her, and her vision blurred at the edges.

Then a large hand slid beneath her and lifted her from the snow. The suddenness of it tore a sharp gasp from her, and her whole body went rigid, pain and terror colliding violently in her chest.

“U-unhand me this instant... You imbecile.” she said in a pained voice. She tried to keep her eyes open, but alas, she could not hold onto consciousness any longer.

The last thing she saw before the darkness finally took her was Adrian, staring down at her, his expression unreadable.