Chapter 114 The Infection
The First Frostborn
I stand at the upper tier, hands folded neatly behind my back, gazing down into the vast interior hollow of the mountain as I always do. From here, the Sanctum unfolds in deliberate order—terraced walkways cut cleanly into stone, carved platforms layered with intention, ice channels guiding meltwater exactly where it belongs. Everything serves a purpose. This place was built to endure, to contain, to protect the world beyond these walls from what lives inside them. Everyone in their lane. Or at least, that is how it should be. Today feels… different. Not loud or chaotic. That would be easy to identify, easy to correct. This is quieter than that. There's a subtle tension beneath the surface, like ice beginning to thin without yet cracking. I have ruled long enough to recognise the feeling. Change rarely announces itself with violence. It begins with deviation, with hesitation, with questions left unspoken, and I suspect I know exactly why it feels different here. That little troublemaker has been circling my Sanctum for days now, her presence brushing against my wards like a persistent irritation I cannot quite isolate. I felt her the moment she crossed into the outer reaches of the mountain—an imbalance where there should have been none. An elemental whose power did not bite or fracture or surge in unpredictable spikes. That alone should have been impossible. I have tried to eradicate her and her lies. Sent hunters. Redirected patrols. Poured resources into tracing the source of her interference. And yet she slips through every net I cast, devilish and infuriating, leaving behind nothing but disruption and questions. She is using a form of power I do not recognise. That unsettles me more than I care to admit. It is not stronger than mine in raw force, of that I am certain, but it behaves differently. It does not claw. It does not lash out. It settles. It anchors. No matter how much pressure I apply, no matter how many wards I reinforce or lines I draw, I cannot locate the source of it. It does not obey fear.
I turn from the railing sharply and call out, my voice carrying cleanly through the stone corridor.
“Guard.”
No response. Annoyance flickers through me, sharp and unwelcome. I take a step forward.
“Guard,” I repeat, colder now.
Still nothing. That should not happen.
I walk down the hall, boots striking the stone with measured precision. My presence should be enough to summon half the Sanctum to attention. It always has been. But the corridor remains empty, torchlight flickering against ice-lined walls without a single shadow moving to meet me. No footsteps. No bows. No fear. I reach the edge of the upper railing again and lean forward, gaze sweeping downward across the levels below. At first glance, everything appears exactly as it should. Workers move through their routes. Guards patrol the walkways. Families gather near the ice channels, voices low, contained. Order. But if you look closer, really look, it is not. A guard pauses too long before continuing his patrol. A woman speaks too softly to another, their heads bent together, shoulders nearly touching. A man hauling supplies stills mid-step, staring down at his hands like they’ve done something unexpected. Their magic tells the truth even when they do not. I see frost thinning where it should remain rigid. Ice smoothing instead of bristling. Power responding to emotion instead of being crushed beneath it. Small things. Insignificant on their own but catastrophic in accumulation. She is here.
Not storming the gates. Not challenging me openly. No, she is far cleverer than that. She is infecting my Sanctum the way rot infects a beam—slowly, invisibly, until the structure collapses under its own weight. I feel it now, a presence threading through the mountain like warmth through frozen stone. It should not exist here. Warmth weakens ice. Softens edges. Encourages expansion.
Encourages choice. I tighten my hands behind my back, nails biting into my palms. They cannot be allowed to choose. Choice is what shattered the world the first time. Choice is what led to frozen seas and buried cities and children screaming as their own magic tore them apart. I remember it all. I remember standing in the aftermath of storms born from grief and devotion, from love strong enough to ignite catastrophe. Love does not balance power. Love unleashes it. That is the truth I have spent centuries containing and she is whispering the opposite. I straighten and turn sharply, striding toward the inner chamber where the ice thickens, and my power responds without delay. The Sanctum hums beneath my steps, a low vibration of magic that has always obeyed me. Until now.
“She tried to kill her,” I hear one voice say faintly from below.
My stride falters for the briefest moment. No, that is not how this is meant to go. I pause at the edge of the stairway, listening—not with ears, but with power. The mountain carries sound differently. It remembers words the way it remembers pressure, and beneath the layers of stone and iron and ice, I hear it. Doubt. Hope. The most dangerous of all emotions.
“She told us we aren’t cursed,” another voice murmurs.
I feel something crack as rage settles through me like a deep freeze, sharp and absolute. If they believe her—if they begin to question the necessity of this place, of my rule—then everything I have built becomes meaningless. All of it reduced to a cautionary tale told by people who never understood the burden I carried to keep them safe. I will not allow that. I am not a tyrant. I am a warden. I have held this line alone for centuries so they would not destroy themselves. I have accepted their hatred, their fear, their obedience because the alternative was annihilation. And she thinks she can undo that with sentiment? With connection? With love? Love is what led us all here! Every single one of us has had our heart ripped out and stomped upon. That is why we are here! I move faster now, power rising in response to my fury, ice thickening along the walls as I pass. If she wants to spread her poison through my Sanctum, then I will meet her where she stands and remind everyone why storms must be contained. She is here, and I will find her before my people forget why they ever needed me at all.