The First Frost Novel Novels & Stories

The first true frost came on the morning of Mara’s thirty-second day at Ashford, and Brynn woke to a world made strange and beautiful by the change. The keep windows were silvered with it. The orchards beyond the wall stood rimed and stark. When she went down to the lady’s study at her usual early hour she found her own breath visible in front of her, and Wynn already there laying a small fire in the hearth, the herbs in the warm water she’d brought up steaming gently in the cold.

The first snowflake didn’t melt, it didn’t even feel cold, when it touched the marble of the balcony, it let out a faint, high-pitched chime, like a crystal singing to itself, within an hour, the "Snow" was falling across the entire Zenith City, fine, shimmering flakes of Solid Starlight that didn't pile up like ice, but began to coat everything in a terrifying, beautiful frost.

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.

POV DARLENE The air didn't just turn cold; it died. The moment the Frost-Walker King made his declaration, the remaining warmth of the morning sun was extinguished as if a giant, icy hand had snuffed out a candle. From the battlements of the Blood Fortress, I watched in silent horror as the "Great Winter" surged up the mountain slopes. It wasn't a natural storm of snow and wind; it was a creeping, skeletal plague of white frost that turned the very air into a web of jagged glass.

Frostina woke up in an extremely good mood that morning. ​She opened her bright blue eyes and stared at the canopy above her bed. She did not think about the royal crown or the gossiping court ladies. She only thought about the bleeding old peasant man she dragged out of the freezing rain last night. She saved a human life. She actually did something selfless and good. ​A foreign warm spark fluttered inside her chest. ​She jumped out of her soft bed and ignored her young maid. The maid stood near the doors holding a tray of fresh hot bread and sweet jam.

The first Winter Solstice of the grounded era arrived not with a celestial signal, but with a biting northern wind that turned the silver lilies of the Fringe to brittle glass in a single night. The Silver Moon was encased in a Great Frost, a natural, non-technical weather pattern that pushed the temperature so low the air felt like it was filled with needles. I stood at the window of our lakeside cabin, my Tempered Heart drumming a steady sixty beats per minute, its solar enzyme flaring with a protective heat that kept the frost from creeping across the glass. Beside me, Killian watched the clouds, his silver eyes reflecting the heavy gray sky.

I stepped back, my heels catching on the rubber mat. In two strides, he closed the distance, his heat swallowing the rink’s chill. My back hit the cold cinderblock wall, and he looked over me, one hand braced beside my head, caving me in. His breath, laced with whiskey and winter, brushed my cheek. “Listen here, little intern,” he murmured, each word a slow burn. “You don’t get to make silly assumptions about my life. I’ll let you go because it’s your first time, but I promise you, the next time you try this, I won’t play nice.”

VANESSA'S POV The first frost came, painting the world in a crisp, silent white. The compound, once a scarred battlefield, now bore the peaceful, sleeping look of winter. Smoke curled from lodges, and the air smelled of pine and baking bread. The pack was preparing for its first peaceful winter in years. The harvest had been brought in-a bounty greater than any in recent memory. The gardens had flourished, the herds were fat, and the stores were full. It was a tangible result of the peace we had fought for, a comfort earned through blood and tears.

"Got it!" Summer hugged Kristen. "Don't blame yourself, okay?" "Okay." Kristen nodded. After that, Summer let go and happily went off to look for Phoebe. In dramas and novels, the first snowfall was always portrayed as romantic and poetic. This was Summer's first winter after being reborn. Those three years in the asylum, every winter had felt unbearable. The floor was freezing cold, and the thin, ripped blankets offered no warmth. The meals had been frozen like lumps of ice, so each bite was hard to swallow.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§ The mist obscured her view, but she could sense coldness in the dark eyes. She hadn’t expected that she would fall off the tree so easily and slide into the spring, nor did she expect that someone would be in the spring… The man in the spring concealed his surprise, looking at the boy sticking his head out of the water and staring at him in the mist. “What? You want to join me?” Lucas asked, his voice low and even.