Primal Frost Illusion Novels & Stories

Master Aurel walked in like he owned the space, his pristine white coat catching the light, spectacles gleaming. Frost trailed behind him, crystals forming in the air where his presence marked the space. The Light Mage looked soft at first glance-scholarly build, gentle features, the kind of person who should have been translating texts in a library. But his eyes were ancient and cold, and the way everyone in a room unconsciously gave him distance spoke of a power that hurt to stand too close to.

"Craster's a friend to the Watch A friend, thought Sam, as he listened to Gilly's muffled shrieks. Craster was a brutal man who ruled his wives and daughters with an iron hand, but his keep was a refuge all the same. "Frozen crows," Craster sneered when they straggled in, those few who had survived the snow, the wights, and the bitter cold. "And not so big a flock as went north, neither." Yet he had given them space on his floor, a roof to keep the snow off, a fire to dry them out, and his wives had brought them cups of hot wine to put some warmth in their bellies. "Bloody crows," he called them, but he'd fed them too, meager though the fare might b

Frost was found two hours later. A security team to the coordinates Vael gave, a compact site that read as a decommissioned water treatment facility from the outside and was something considerably older inside, and the real Frost in a suspended hold exactly as Vael had described — sitting, breathing, eyes closed, dreamless. He woke inside sixty seconds of the hold being released and spent the first twenty minutes being deeply confused and the next hour being extremely focused, which was, Ava had learned, simply his personality on a sliding scale.

"To the Frost-Shelf. There’s nothing there but ice and stone. Vent it into the sky, Elias. Show the Council’s 'ears' exactly what they’ve created." They ran. They didn't shift—there was no need. Elias moved like a shadow cast by a sun, and Rhea matched his pace, her lungs burning in the thinning air. When they reached the Frost-Shelf, a barren plateau of blue ice ten thousand feet above sea level, Elias let out a roar that triggered avalanches on the neighboring peaks. A pillar of pure, blinding silver energy erupted from his chest, shooting miles into the atmosphere. It tore through the clouds, creating a localized aurora that could be seen as far south as the capital cities of the Council.

The wind howled through the narrow, snow-choked streets of Snowridge, as if warning anyone who dared to venture out into the deadly storm. Asha Frostheart, her face partially hidden beneath a fur-lined cloak, moved swiftly through the thick snowfall, her white wolf companion, Ghost, at her side. The blizzard's icy bite pierced through her layers of clothing, but her focus remained unbroken.

His arm locked around the stone, his muscles straining until they creaked, anchoring both of our weights against the vertical face of the mountain. The Frost-Wyrm, confused by the sudden disappearance of the vibrating heat sources and satisfied by the destruction of the lower shelf, let out a final, distant shriek. Its massive, translucent body turned slowly in the wind, its ice-plated tail cutting through the upper fog as it glided back into the deep, dark rifts of the glacier, leaving the high pass in a dead, suffocating silence. We hung there in the freezing twilight, our bodies pressed flush against the raw basalt ridge, the wind howling around us as the blizzard began to slowly lift.

"I've already seen the introductions on phoenixes in ancient archives before. Phoenixes' liking of cold energy is the first trait listed. I tried to use that point. After entering the door, I took out ground frost pills that are dense in cold energy. "The effects of ground frost pills shouldn't be worse than freezing pills. In the buffer zone, I mixed poison with the pills and tossed them out. However, the phoenix did not fall for it at all. All the phoenix did was a glance at the pills and shut its eyes, ignoring them!"

Not us, anyway. Frost launches himself at the nearest shadow where it spreads like an oil spill on the scratched wooden floor. He leaps onto it, claws digging, teeth snapping. He’s like a starved wolf unleashed—biting, scratching, growling, snarling, taking out his anger on the shadow with devastating consequences. He tears right through the black shape, leaving gouges in the floor. The creature falls into shreds and evaporates, although Frost doesn’t wait around to see it disappear before he chooses his next victim.