Primal Frost Illusion Novels & Stories

As we descended into the Frozen Tundra—the lowlands that used to be the lush meadows of Silver Moon—the landscape began to shimmer. "Do you see that?" Kael whispered, his hand tightening on his sword. The air was filled with Illusion Ice—microscopic shards of frozen magic that acted like prisms, bending the light and the mind. The trees, stripped of their bark and frozen into skeletal shapes, began to shift. The howling wind started to carry voices—whispers that didn't sound like the King of Frost, but like the ghosts of my past. “Burden... stain... too much...”.

And now I knew. What made Wolf Hunters terrifying, even to someone like Yrsa, wasn't just their strength. It was their abilities. For Frost, it was illusion. Powerful illusion ability that you couldn't escape from because you couldn't tell they weren't real. Everything felt real. Even the cold that came off Frost wasn’t even real. That too is an Illusion.

Frozen blood stains crusted along its collar. This was the Frozen Forest. The desolate wasteland where she had been abandoned like trash after her wolf core was crippled in her past life. Chill seeped into every bone. Extreme cold and hunger twisted her stomach into sharp spasms. The agony made every nerve throb violently. The sensation was utterly real. Her exhaled breath turned to frost the second it touched the air. "This is an illusion." Eira bit her lip hard until she tasted the metallic tang of blood. Yet her body reacted beyond the control of reason. She shivered uncontrollably, her legs heavy as lead. Every step drained nearly all her strength.

Even then, my brief, fractured dreams had been a suffocating loop of dark eyes, the phantom heat of a large body trapping me against a marble counter, and the cloying, toxic scent of wintergreen. My ribs throbbed a dull, relentless rhythm beneath my heavy chest protector as I stepped out of the tunnel. Every breath of the zero-degree air felt like swallowing crushed ice. I welcomed the pain. It was a grounding mechanism, a sharp, physical reminder to rebuild the iron-clad walls Kael Sterling was systematically trying to dismantle. *If I win, you'll be at my command.*

A strange, unnatural chill is blooming under my ribs. I reach out to point toward the eastern naval approach, intending to summon a minor, guiding line of Southern Fire to trace the reef. The moment I draw on my core, the amethyst frequency in my blood doesn't surge outward; it violently implodes. A sharp, agonizing gasp leaves my lips as my hands betray me. Instead of the blinding, radioactive heat of the First Hearth, a brilliant white flash of cold, crackling silver frost shoots out from my fingertips, freezing the surface of the timber table solid. The frost instantly creeps up my own forearms, leaving a web of numbing, crystalline ice over my skin that completely suffocates my pulse.

One move from her and they were already scattered and spiralling everywhere. She didn’t even look up until she bumped into someone. The latter was rock solid because although Liora was the one who bumped into him, she was the one who was sent metres backwards. She staggered and then raised her head, a familiar face greeting her. Tall. Sharp jawline. Brilliant, Dangerous, Ruthless and a foe. Damien Frost. CEO of Frost Corporation. The Frosts and The Morgans’ were mortal enemies since she could remember. The story was old and ancient and she could barely remember it but she knew that they hated each other in both private and public but sometimes managed to keep up appearances in public.

"The charge is building. If you let go now, the feedback loop will vaporize the lower levels." "Then I guess I'm staying right here," Liam growled, his boots digging deeper into the metal grating, leaving deep indents in the steel. The black frost was now creeping up his boots, climbing his calves like living tendrils. It felt like liquid lead, heavy and deadening, trying to sap the kinetic energy directly from his muscles. He bared his fangs, his aura of winter frost flaring outward in a violent burst, contesting the dark magic of the fog. The two opposing forces hissed as they collided, creating a localized storm of freezing steam around the platform.

It was cold—frigid, even—and it was slowly but steadily freezing her heart and other vital organs. In his mind, Danial searched the vast repository of knowledge from his inheritance and found the explanation: Miss Kirk possessed a rare condition known as the Frostborn Physique. This was no ordinary affliction—it was a unique and powerful physique that caused the body to continuously generate frost energy whenever she cultivated. The Frostborn Physique grew stronger with each cultivation session, making it increasingly difficult to control and maintain the frost energy. Left unchecked, this energy could potentially freeze her from the inside out, a slow and painful process that could ultimate

The frost pushed against my ribs, trying to burst through, trying to escape the prison I had made for it. "No," I growled. My voice came out distorted, layered with something that was not human. The beast bloodline was responding, surging up from my core to reinforce my crumbling control. My eyes shifted to silver. My fingernails darkened into claws. The frost hesitated. It remembered me now, remembered the last time I had awakened. It did not want to fight that again. I pushed back. The glacier held. The frost settled. And when the freeze ended, I was still standing.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, knowing sleep wouldn't come easily because tomorrow I returned to real life; campus, classes, work. Just as I was finally drifting off, I heard a sound from the living room, a low pained groan that made my blood run cold and I rushed out to find Frost on the floor, convulsing, his eyes blazing pure gold. "Frost!" I dropped to my knees beside him. His body was changing, his hands becoming clawed, his teeth sharpening. His skin shimmered. "Jackson," Frost gasped, his voice distorted and terrified, "get away, I can't, I can't control—"