Captain Cold Flash Novels & Stories

> here it is… the question I have been avoiding for a very long time… I still don’t know how to tell them…I bet he already knows…after all this old man is none other than the captain of the frost knights and the archmage of winter…I bet he already felt my mana even though I sealed it with a glyph… Let’s act dumb for the time being…

Nathan looked at my reddened eyes and raked a hand through his hair in agitation. He suddenly pulled off his oversized team jacket and dropped it right over my head. "It's freezing and you're sitting there shaking like a leaf. Put it on. If you get sick from the cold, who's going to do our chores?" I poked my head out of the jacket, but he'd already skated off. That night, the IceTyrant account got a message from Nathan. "Master, I played hero and saved a damsel today. Boosted team unity again! But why was that girl so cold? Downright rude! What on earth do women even think about?"

he finished, humming again in satisfaction after taking another bite. I looked back up at him in disgust, "You know if you're going to keep eating here, you should help with the groceries." His blue eyes immediately snapped to me, guarding his bowl in defence, "You are not taking this cake away from me, it is too damn delicious," Chris hissed, going into Silver Sworn, guardian mode. The bowl containing my cake and ice cream being the Sandix, the supposedly most powerful object in the world he was sworn to guard with his life in the over the top movie, if you ask me.

It pulsed brighter and brighter the more power he drew and held onto. His whole body thrummed with the icy chill his element brought to him. He let the breath he was holding out and lashed his hand out in front of his body. Large spikes of ice erupted from the frost underneath the soldier’s feet and tore through the unprotected underbellies of their mounts. Kari flinched at the horses’ screams as they writhed in agony. I‘m sorry. I am so, so sorry but I can’t have your masters get any further.

he replied. "So, we'll be taking my private plane and will be at our destination at exactly 1600 hours. Hop on!" he told Isabella. She was shocked to see the superior side of the Captain. He was like giving commands to his troops. "That's what you say to your co-soldiers?" she asked while giggling. "What co-soldiers? There is no such thing." he laughed at her chosen words. "Well basically yes, but I'm more stiffed and I shout most of the time when talking to them. They can't see this soft side of me. It's only for you!" Carter was very naughty. He loves teasing Isabella.

Was I ever dead? “I have flashbacks of being good at art, and yet I try now and I’m miserable,” I explain to them. “I hate all the food I used to like, and people tell me I was mean and yet I don’t feel the need to be that way.” “Interesting," Jeremy murmurs. They both scribble all this down on their notepads. Roel claims he trusts them, that they won't share this information with the public. “So you have flashbacks often?” Marie asks.

To the absolute, paralyzing horror of the mercenary captain, the bright orange fire on the roof didn't spread—it turned a deep, ghostly silver, the heat violently dying out as the flames were literally frozen into solid, crystalline shards of glowing ice. The captain stared at his torch, the flame snuffing out into a trail of white smoke before it could even touch the oil barrel. "What... what are you?" he whimpered, dropping the useless iron shaft as his knees buckled from the sheer weight of her divine pressure. Before he could even hit the wooden floorboards, a massive, ink-black shadow descended upon the porch like a meteor.

Before someone reframed it. For a moment Elder Voss met my gaze with those icily silver-grey eyes. “The Council recognizes Mara Ashfield as bloodline party,” he said. “Noted.” I sat. Damien’s hand found mine under the table again. This time he didn’t release it immediately. Rokan’s representative was a wolf named Aldric — senior, astute, possessing that specific efficiency of motion that comes from having learned that each movement within a Council chamber uttered something, and having determined long ago to speak only what he meant, in those particular motions.

“I’m not exactly a sports person.” “You will be after tonight. The energy is addictive. Hawthorne versus Westfield is always brutal—especially because of the captains. Brad Walker versus Sebastian Hale. Pure rivalry.” I raised an eyebrow. “Sebastian Hale?” “Captain of Westfield. Tall, insanely talented, and actually a decent guy from what I’ve heard not the cocky asshole type like Brad and his crew. The stands go wild whenever he’s on the ice. Total heartthrob material.” She winked. “You’ll see why.”

Lana smiled at me before walking out of the room. I picked up my phone as I got out of the I*******m page of Cole Donovan, second-year student and the hockey captain of the school and also a member of the Blackwood Boys. The Blackwood Boys were three best friends, and that consisted of Cole, Zane, and Nolan. These boys were known for their charm, their good looks, and also how wealthy they were considering that they came from good backgrounds, and it was rumoured that their parents had shares in the school, but amongst all of them, the least you would want to get involved with was Cole.