Page 12 of The Enchanted Frost (The Christmas Chronicles)

CHAPTER 12

Blanche

T he subtle shifts I’d noticed throughout Frost’s realm grew more pronounced the more I wandered through the vast labyrinthine corridors. The cold, elegant sanctuary, seemed to morph before my eyes. The pristine, intricate ice carvings that had adorned the halls were melting into abstract patterns, revealing hints of the stone or earth beneath.

The air inside the icy castle, once as frigid as the heart of winter, had grown noticeably warmer. A faint, almost balmy breeze occasionally drifted through the corridors, carrying the scent of thawing earth and blooming flowers—a fragrance completely foreign to Frost’s realm. The magical light that once glowed with a cold, blue luminescence now dimmed, taking on a warmer, more golden hue reminiscent of sunlight during early spring. Much as I loved the idea of spring and warmth, it seemed a jarring inconsistency, as though it was inherently wrong to find such things in the heart of winter .

As I moved deeper into the castle, I took note of the changes. In the corners of the castle where frost had once stubbornly clung, small signs of life were beginning to emerge—tiny green shoots breaking through cracks in the frozen ground and delicate, frost-kissed blossoms blooming with petals tinged in the soft pastels of spring: pale pinks, gentle yellows, and light purples.

In the mornings, where a thick layer of frost had once blanketed every surface, now only a light dew glistened in the first light of day, further proof that the season was beginning to shift. The distant sound of birdsong now filled the once silent arctic air, a harbinger of the encroaching spring and another undeniable sign that winter was slowly slipping away.

I shivered, not from the cold, but from the eerie silence that filled the empty spaces. Despite Frost’s earlier assurances when I’d greeted him upon his return several hours ago, I couldn’t dispel my unease that something was wrong. Eventually my worry had urged me to seek him out not long after he’d departed to perform his winter duties.

“Frost? Are you here?” My voice echoed off the ice-covered walls, but there was no response. I called for him again, but each time my voice grew fainter as I ventured farther, an involuntary hush falling over me with each step. I couldn’t shake the worry that he might be lost somewhere in his own domain as it crumbled around him.

While there was still so much I didn’t know about Frost or the magic he wielded, the concern I’d detected earlier had been enough to understand that whatever was happening was beyond normalcy—something was profoundly wrong.

The longer I wandered the castle without finding him, the deeper my worry grew—more acute than anything I’d felt during the days I’d spent struggling to survive on the streets. I couldn’t understand how I could care more for someone else’s well-being than my own, especially after such a short time…and when it was his duty to allow winter to complete the work it had begun in the alley.

But seeing the evidence of his powers weakening all around me, I began to understand why it was imperative for him to claim my soul. I pressed my hand to my chest, as if I could keep all that made me who I was in one piece. I no longer felt the same apprehension I once had at the thought of losing myself if it would help the only man who had ever shown me kindness, even as despair welled within me at the thought of being parted from him forever now that I finally had something worth living for.

My heart twinged, as if trying to convey an unspoken message, but I hastily dismissed it. Desperation was causing me to become confused; this denial battled with my sense as I continued exploring the castle.

I came upon a chamber I hadn’t explored before filled with old, ornate furniture covered in a thin layer of frost. The walls were lined with shelves holding various artifacts—crystals, ancient scrolls, and weathered books. Though a quick glance revealed Frost wasn’t present here either, I found myself drawn closer, guided by an unspoken desire to learn more about him.

Seeking answers, I approached one of the shelves and ran my fingers over a dusty tome. Opening it revealed detailed sketches of ice formations and snowflakes, accompanied by notes written in a flowing script that spoke of the intricacies of seasonal magic, the delicate balance required to sustain it, and the ancient rituals of winter.

Next to the tome, a crystal vial containing a shimmering blue liquid caught my eye, likely a potion or magical essence. I wondered if it was something Frost used to maintain his powers, or perhaps a relic from his long existence. Each item seemed to whisper fragments of his past, hinting at a life lived in solitude, surrounded by the endless winter he had created and maintained.

I was reminded of my own mortality as I moved around the room; even without the time counting down until Frost was required to complete his duty, my life was diminutive in comparison to the eons he’d lived and worked to keep the world as it should be.

As I explored further, I stumbled upon a large, frost-covered mirror. Wiping away the ice revealed not my reflection but a shadowy figure with an ethereal glow—a representation of Frost, but not as I knew him. An aura of cold fire surrounded his regal form, a reminder of the immense power he wielded. I drew back slightly, too curious to look away but too awed to stay close.

The flickering image shifted to reveal glimpses of Frost's past. This mirror appeared to be more than just a reflective surface; similar to the showcase of my memories Frost had shown me earlier, it seemed to capture moments of his history, a window into his past lives and the solitude he had endured.

I watched as the swirling images sharpened, steadying to reveal Frost standing atop a mountain, his hands raised as he summoned a blizzard with nothing more than a thought. Concentration furrowed his expression, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light as he shaped the storm, guiding it across the land with a mastery that seemed effortless. I shivered as I imagined the whine of the wind and the stinging blow of each tiny shard of ice whipping through the air, but Frost stood serene and untouched in the midst of the storm as he watched it do his bidding. Snow and ice obeyed his every command, and soon the landscape below was covered in a thick, glistening blanket of white, a testament to his control over the elements.

The scene changed to show Frost in a different time and place. He stood alone in a vast, frozen wasteland, the wind howling around him as he walked through the snow, no longer leaving any footprints behind. His face was solemn and his eyes distant, as if the weight of eternity pressed upon him. He paused at the edge of a frozen lake, staring into the ice as if searching for something—perhaps a glimpse of himself in the reflection, or a reminder of who he had once been before winter became his only companion…if such a time existed at all.

Another image flickered into view, showing Frost crouched in a dark alley, much like the one where he had found me. He bent over what at first glance appeared to be a heap of rags. But as I looked closer, I realized it was the lifeless body of an old man. Frost extended a hand and a swirl of shimmering blue magic flowed over the man’s body like a gentle river. Deep within, a tiny golden spark flickered, slowly rising from the body and floating along the stream of magic towards Frost’s outstretched hand.

The moment the spark touched his fingertip, a burst of white light enveloped him, and he inhaled deeply, as if drawing the essence into himself. The light faded, but he remained kneeling a moment longer, carefully scooping a handful of snow from the man’s body into a small vial, no doubt preserving the man’s memories. With a slight nod of respect towards the fallen soul that had become part of nature’s delicate balance, Frost vanished into the night. My breath caught as I watched, realizing this was a glimpse into my own future.

The mirror’s surface rippled again, this time showing Frost in battle, his powers clashing against another elemental force—perhaps a spirit of fire or a being of sunlight. The air around him crackled with energy as he courageously defended his realm, the ice responding to his every command with ferocity. Yet even in the midst of combat, there was a sense of weariness about him, as if he had fought these battles countless times before, each one taking a little more from him.

As I continued to gaze into the mirror, a new scene emerged, this time pulling me into the present. The reflection shifted to the outside world, revealing the landscape surrounding the ice castle. The once-serene winter wonderland was now caught in the throes of a violent hailstorm. Jagged chunks of ice pelted the ground with brutal force, shattering the delicate balance of snow and frost. The trees, once laden with soft, powdery snow, now groaned under the weight of thick ice, their branches cracking and breaking in the relentless storm.

The sight was both awe-inspiring and heartbreaking. As if the magic within the mirror had silently conveyed a wordless description of the event, I recognized this as the aftermath of Frost’s desperate attempt to cling to his powers, a manifestation of the turmoil he could no longer contain—an outward display of the inner conflict tearing him apart. The hailstorm was not just a force of nature; it was a reflection of Frost’s anguish, his struggle against the inevitable change that threatened to take everything he had known and held dear.

Finally, the mirror settled on a scene that tugged at my heart. Frost stood in a forest at the edge of winter’s reach, watching as spring began to creep forward, melting the snow and bringing life back to the earth. His face was a mask of resignation, his hand outstretched as if trying to hold back the inevitable change. But no matter how powerful he was, he couldn’t stop the cycle of the seasons. Though the ice eventually retreated, with it a piece of him seemed to fade, leaving him standing alone in the burgeoning warmth of spring.

As each image unfolded, I began to better understand the depth of Frost’s burden. He was not merely a being of ice and cold; he was a guardian of winter, tasked with maintaining a delicate balance that often left him isolated, battling forces beyond his control. The mirror showed me not just his power, but the silent pain of an existence defined by duty and the passage of time…a loneliness I yearned to alleviate.

The final image eventually faded to leave only my own reflection. I felt closer to the man I’d come to know who had been shaped by all of these moments—his strength, his solitude, and especially his sorrow. Frost was more than a figure of ice; he was a soul who had endured more than I could have imagined, and who now faced a challenge that threatened to unravel everything he had fought to preserve.

My heart ached as I realized how deeply Frost’s identity was intertwined with the magic he controlled. Each unfolding scene revealed a man who’d spent an eternity maintaining an unending winter, preserving a world that had slowly begun to unravel.

With each memory, the sheer magnitude of his eternal life settled over me, bringing a deep sadness at how unchanging he and the events around him had remained, with little to mark the vast stretch of time he’d endured. In his eyes, I’d seen a glimmer of sadness—a profound loneliness that could never be filled, no matter how impressive his achievements. Despite the grandeur of his castle, with its shimmering ice chandeliers and snowflakes suspended in eternal dance, it was devoid of life, a beautiful yet chilling prison that kept him forever isolated from the world beyond.

Uncovering the intricate details that wove the fabric of Frost's existence only deepened my desire to see him again. Leaving behind the room filled with artifacts representing the mysteries I still longed to solve, I wandered the cold, empty corridors in search of him.

I hadn’t been walking long when a faint, high-pitched sound reached my ears. At first, I dismissed it as the wind whistling through the cracks in the ice, but it gradually grew more insistent, almost melodic, like the tinkling of tiny bells.

I paused, listening intently, and realized with a start that the sound wasn’t random notes of the season—whispers of words emerged half-formed in my mind, as if the winter itself were trying to speak. A shiver of recognition and understanding rippled up my spine.

Somehow, the winter magic was reaching out to me, a paradox to the gradual thaw spreading throughout Frost’s realm. Did this represent the breakdown of Frost’s power causing his magic to somehow become accessible to mortals, or was something different happening to me?

I noticed more subtle changes in myself as I continued through the castle; I felt as if something had shifted within me, and the air around me felt different, sharper. The cold—which had once been a constant, biting presence—now felt almost comforting, as if the frost and snow were welcoming me, wrapping me in their embrace. It was as though winter itself had taken up residence within me, offering protection from the very cold that had once threatened my life.

As I brushed my fingers against the walls, I noticed that wherever my hand lingered, a thin layer of frost formed, delicate patterns spreading across the surface like intricate lace. The objects I touched grew cold beneath my fingertips, the warmth of my skin replaced by a sudden, brief chill. The frost would fade after a moment, but the realization that I could now wield even a fraction of Frost’s magic sent a wave of confusion and conflicting emotions through me.

The only possible explanation my whirling thoughts could conjure was that the deeper understanding I’d gained of Frost through his memories in the magical mirror along with my continued presence in his realm seemed to have forged a deeper connection between us, intertwining my essence with his and the winter he commanded.

Was this connection a gift given after we’d drawn closer, or a curse that meant that the very powers Frost seemed to be losing were now manifesting within me? Dread coiled my stomach as I considered another possibility: Frost had thus far failed in his duty to claim my soul. Could winter itself be working to complete the task, infiltrating me with its magic until it could seize what it was owed?

The questions seemed magnified in the castle’s eerie silence that pressed down on me as I continued my search for Frost, driven by a deeper urgency to find him. He needed to know what was happening, and I needed to understand what this new bond meant for both of us. I reached up to touch my forehead where his lips had briefly pressed as I drifted off to sleep, smiling at the memory. Affection had been so absent from my life that the simple kiss had become one of the brightest moments of my existence.

I suddenly felt the chill of the ice beneath my feet and the faint echoes of winter’s voice in my mind, growing stronger within me as I searched, guiding my steps as I moved through the castle’s changing halls. My quest eventually led me to a small chamber with a large window overlooking the realm, a landscape of melting ice and encroaching greenery, the once-gleaming expanse now a patchwork of thawing ice and sprouting shoots. I could almost feel Frost’s struggle, a war against the natural cycle that he could not fully control.

I noticed a door slightly ajar at the far end of the room. I pushed it open and found Frost sitting on a now-misshapen stool by an icy window ledge, his back to me and his shoulders hunched forward. The sight of him once more alone, with his usual commanding presence diminished, tugged at my heart.

He slowly faced me, his eyes weary yet not unwelcoming. “ You found me.” A mixture of relief and resignation filled his weak tone, accompanying the distant sound of the hailstorm that still echoed faintly in my mind, a testament to the turmoil and struggle Frost had unleashed in his desperation.

I edged farther into the room. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve seen the changes in the castle, and I sensed you’ve been troubled.”

“I didn’t mean to hide. There’s just so much changing.” He stared at me a moment before tipping his head in a beckoning gesture, silently inviting me to join him.

I drew closer and settled beside him, the cold of the ledge beneath me seeping through my skirts. “I discovered some things about your magic…and your past. I now better understand how much winter means to you, as well as how much you’ve sacrificed to preserve it.”

His sigh was like a gust of icy wind. “I’ve never had a chance to share any part of myself or my world with someone…until you. Have I forever shattered the illusion of the enigmatic winter king?”

I carefully arranged my thoughts over what winter’s magic had shown me. “Immortality always seemed like an element out of the fairytales I loved as a child, but experiencing a glimpse of yours through your eyes made me realize how isolating and unchanging it’s been for you.”

“A solitude mirrored in the memories of your own life,” he replied.

It amazed me how the vastly different tapestries that made up our separate existences could share this common thread, a bridge that brought us closer with each passing day. There was so much more I wanted to ask him, especially after glimpsing the storm he’d recently created. I’d felt a portion of his pain in each hailstone, as if each shard of ice cut a piece of his heart, leaving a permanent indent that I was desperate to heal .

He tilted his head, studying me, as if analyzing the loneliness that had likely compelled me to seek him out. But beyond filling the void in my heart—one that his presence these past several days had begun to heal—it was our deepening connection that had drawn me to him, the joy I felt in his company magnified beyond anything I’d ever known before our meeting.

Yet despite the growing connection I felt to Frost and his magic, I couldn’t shake the deep loneliness that had been my constant companion long before I ever set foot in this icy domain, an emotion I sensed could only be alleviated by him, one who understood more than anyone else what it felt like to be alone.

As if sensing my unspoken feelings, his expression softened, his eyes reflecting an understanding that made my heart ache. In the quiet his gaze spoke volumes, as if he could see straight into my soul and sense the loneliness that lingered there…one he himself was well-acquainted with.

He suddenly extended his hand, a swirl of icy mist gathering in his palm. I watched, entranced, as the mist solidified, forming into a delicate, shimmering creature made entirely of ice. It was small, about the size and shape of a fox, with crystalline fur that caught the light in a thousand dazzling facets. Its icy eyes glowed with a warm, gentle light, and its movements were graceful, almost ethereal.

The creature padded over to me, its steps silent on the frozen floor. It nuzzled my hand with its cool nose, a soft, almost purring sound emanating from deep within its chest. I knelt down, gently running my fingers through its frosty fur, marveling at how lifelike it felt despite being crafted from winter’s cold.

“For you,” Frost said quietly, his weak voice from the effort like a whisper of snowflakes. “In case you ever need some company when I can’t provide it for you. ”

I looked up at him, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite name. The gesture was simple, yet it meant more to me than I could express. He had seen my loneliness, felt it as deeply as I did, and without needing to hear the words had chosen to ease it in the only way he knew how. It was a kindness I hadn’t expected, a sign that he understood me more than I’d realized.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as my fingers curled into the frosty strands of the animal’s fur. The little creature nuzzled against me again, its icy fur somehow comforting despite its cold nature. “It’s perfect.”

Frost’s lips curved into a faint smile, but I could see the hint of something deeper in his eyes—a concern along with a quiet resignation. I realized that creating this companion for me might have come at a cost, that in choosing to comfort me he was willing to further risk unsettling the balance he’d fought so hard to maintain. Yet he had done it regardless, a proof of how deeply he cared that I hadn’t expected.

As the ice creature curled up beside me, I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature. Frost had given me a gift, not just of companionship but of understanding, one made more special when it reminded me of the one who’d created it, the most precious thing to me of anything in this frozen world.

I burrowed my fingers in its soft fur. “Can I bring it with me after you gather my soul?”

Though I meant the question innocently, he flinched at the unwanted reminder of his duty that we did our best to keep unspoken between us. “I’ve collected countless souls over my existence, yet I myself don’t know what lies beyond.” His gaze sought the vast view of the sky outside, as if trying to see beyond to discover the answer to this unknown mystery.

The shift in mood served as an unwanted reminder to the truths I’d been doing my best to forget. Though I welcomed his touching gift, a small part of me couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. His creation of a companion to fill the void in my heart was a tangible reminder of the inevitable expiration date hanging over our tentative relationship. Our time together was nothing more than a fleeting dream that would eventually come to an unwanted end, a reminder that mortals and immortal beings could never truly be together…an unspoken desire I was slowly starting to recognize filling my heart.

Seeing the subtle yet undeniable signs of spring slowly consuming his realm, I couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at me at the fact that my presence was bringing unnatural changes to a season that had remained constant since the dawn of time. I knew I couldn’t be selfish enough to disrupt everything that made him who he was, let alone risk the fate of the entire world.

My exploration of the castle had revealed glimpses of his eternity, an existence shaped long before we met and one that would continue long after I was gone. A being with infinite time and endless forevers had no need for a relationship with a mortal woman who was only just beginning to understand what it meant to truly live and love.

I needed to cherish the portion of his existence where he had made room for me. He had given me something precious—a companion born from his magic, an act that showed how deeply he understood me. Even more precious, he had shown me care, consideration, and true friendship, a priceless gift to end my years of emotional starvation with days of knowing that I was seen and even cherished. Now I wanted to do something for him in return, not just out of gratitude but because I wanted to cheer him up in the same way he’d comforted me. But what could I offer a being who had lived forever and seemed to possess everything ?

“Is there anything that you want?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if my simple question could even reach the depths of someone as timeless as him.

“My gift was given without condition of needing to receive something in return.” He paused, considering my words. “Actually, there is something—I want to get to know you better.”

I blinked, surprised by his response. I had seen his vast library, filled with the collected knowledge of the countless souls he had taken over the ages. “Haven’t you experienced enough human lifetimes?”

He shook his head slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips. “While their knowledge has become a part of me, there’s a difference between observing and experiencing something firsthand. Not to mention all of those souls have one thing in common—they’re not yours . There’s something different about you, something unexplored that I want to better understand.”

My heart fluttered with a joy so pure it almost hurt. Did this mean he felt the same curiosity that had guided my exploration through his castle, the same yearning to know more about him? The possibility that he wanted to know me as desperately as I longed to discover more about him filled me with unexpected warmth, a hope that perhaps, despite everything, there might be a future for us after all.