Primal Frost Illusion Novels & Stories

I nodded. Lyra looked curiously at the river. Her small hand lifted slightly. The mark on my wrist tingled faintly. “Lyra,” I said gently, “can you feel that?” She tilted her head. Then frowned slightly. “Cold… but not mine,” she whispered. Maren’s breath caught. “What does that mean?” “It means,” Kaelor said quietly, “the frost is anchored artificially.” Maren’s eyes sharpened. “Show me.” I stepped closer to the railing with Lyra.

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.*

I pulled up and slammed my car door, making sure they heard. They turned. A flicker of triumph flashed in Lilith’s eyes before she masked it with fake surprise. "Rhiannon! You're back!" Her voice was sickly sweet. Revulsion coiled like a viper in my gut. I walked toward them, my hand placed protectively over my still-flat stomach. The witch's amulet was already working, cloaking me in the intoxicating scent unique to a pregnant pureblood. "Good evening, Lucius. Lilith," I said flatly.

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.

My heart fluttered like crazy as I saw a silhouette emerge from behind the shadows. He was clad in a long cloak, the hood covered his head. Even his face was hidden by a mask. His sinister eyes were as cold as the frost. When I looked into them I felt like my soul was sucked out of me. A gasp escaped as my hand flew to my mouth. Darkness radiated from him. He was certainly the evilest creature I had seen in my entire life. I can say this with conviction as I have encountered Praishe several times in my life.