Ice God Novels & Stories

“I’m coming soon, sweetheart. I promise. The doctors are taking good care of you, right?” “Uh-huh. But I want you. Not the ice man.” I flinched. Alessandro’s expression darkened, but he stayed silent. “The ice man?” I repeated gently. “Yeah. The tall one from my dream. He looked angry. Is he mad at us, Mommy?” My gaze locked with Alessandro’s. The raw hunger and pain in his eyes nearly broke me all over again. “No, baby,” I lied softly, my voice trembling. “He’s not mad. He… he wants to meet you. He’s a very important person, and he’s going to help us.”

“Follow me, please.” We trailed after him, weaving through the crowd until we reached our seats… right at the edge of the rink. So close I could see the ice clearly, the lights reflecting off it like glass. “Oh my God,” Zoe whispered. “These seats are insane.” My hands were cold. Or maybe that was just my nerves. The lights dimmed slightly. Music blasted through the speakers. One by one, the players walked out onto the ice. And then I saw him. Ronan.

The streets, once bustling with life and cars, were now deserted due to the cold temperature and the surfaces slick with a thin layer of ice. A lone figure emerged from a nearby building, their breath visible in the frigid air. They bundled up in a thick coat and scarf, their hands tucked deep into their pockets for warmth. As they stepped onto the icy pavement, their feet slipped slightly, sending a jolt of surprise through their body. With cautious steps, they navigated the treacherous terrain, their eyes scanning the ground for any hidden patches of black ice. “Jesus Christ, Flo, hurry up!” Frederick exclaimed impatiently from downstairs. He was actually home for the winter break from his

When I walk Through the ice I call it challenge Of the snow I don't sometimes Gain pace But I make my way Eventually Through every ice stone I know it hurts my limbs Every fall, I witness But then for rise one day I create my own day I know the pain Of snow I know the gain To find your way I know it hurts more But then it's legit The day is not torn The day is not torn If you catch me right In peace If you enable rest From unrest When in ease I gather speed Yes, I gather the speed I know whom to blame I know why to not Live in shame With the snow With the snow Near all my home It is panic at times When food goes stale And there is no way To walk away for more But I will live the same way In

The descent into the Deep-Frost felt less like a journey and more like a fall from grace. The transport hummed with a strained, high-pitched frequency as we dove into the sub-glacial canyons beyond the First City. Here, the air was so cold it didn't just bite; it attempted to crystallize the very breath in our lungs. Outside the reinforced viewports, the indigo quartz of the city had given way to "Elder-Ice"—a substance so ancient it was blacker than the void, translucent only when the transport's floodlights caught the frozen remains of leviathans trapped within its depths.

The journey north was a grueling trek through a blizzard that turned the world into a wall of blinding white. The truck Vardan had scavenged groaned under the strain of the climb, its tires churning through thick, frozen slush. Sora sat in the passenger seat, his forehead pressed against the cold glass. The heater was dead, but he didn't feel the chill. His hybrid blood was a furnace, humming at a frequency that kept the frost from forming on his skin.

“You don’t tremble like the others.” “Should I?” she whispered. “No.” His answer came too quickly. Too firm. He looked away, like he had revealed something he didn’t intend to. Then he handed her a small velvet box. Elara blinked. “What’s this?” “Open it.” Inside was a thin silver bracelet with a tiny flame symbol carved into it. “It’s a tracking cuff,” he said. “But it will never hurt you unless you break the rules.” Elara hesitated. “Does every slave get one?”

She smelt of rain. Misha always smelt of flowers. She... She smelt of rain. Suddenly, Axel wished it was raining. * The two figures came closer, Fire and Ice, with the moon shining at both of them, glad that they would meet under Her watchful gaze, smiling when the two clashed finally and would prove once and for all, the power of love itself. Let the magic begin.

– Julius says – I know how much the cold affects you. - Yes. Even though the room is cold, these coats are warm. - You will put yourself in front of that green cloth. Do you know what it's for? - Yes, I have an idea. You will put an image there. - I will put ice and snow there, and this lady will make it snow on you. – Igor says. - Don't worry; it looks like snow, but it's not. It won't crowd you or crowd you on the ground. – says Mary sympathetically.

"The Southern army has your gates. Your wells are ruined. Even if you kill me, you have nothing to feed the pups." I looked at the ground beneath Torvald's paws. The shelf was not solid rock; it was a thick sheet of ancient ice, cracked and stressed by the high winds. Torvald was heavy, his six hundred pound frame putting a massive strain on the outer edge. I did not look at Killian. I did not send a thought through our mate bond. I simply focused on the cold. I did not try to hit Torvald with a pulse. I did not have the strength. Instead, I drove the very last of my silver energy down through my boots, sending a silent, freezing current directly into the ice beneath our feet.