Chapter 77 The Burning of Winter
Bella
"Run," he says.
But I don’t. The ground shatters beneath us before I can even take a breath. A blast of cold erupts from the base of the tower, rippling outward like a shockwave. The air fills with razor-sharp shards of ice, raining down in glittering waves. The guards shout, shields raised, the sound of splintering frost cutting through the night like breaking glass.
Ashlyn grabs my arm, eyes wide. “Oh my gods, she’s actually trying to kill us!”
“Yeah,” I shout over the chaos, “I noticed!”
The tower pulses again. A second wave hits, and this one is sharper, faster, and far more vicious. The shards hiss through the air, slicing through trees and branches as the temperature plummets. My breath fogs instantly, my fingers going numb even as the mark on my neck flares with heat. Then everything burns gold. Damien roars—a sound that shakes the trees and rattles my bones—and where he stood, the dragon bursts free. His scales shimmer like molten bronze, wings snapping wide, scattering frost and snow in every direction.
Ashlyn’s jaw drops. “Well, that’s new!”
The dragon—my dragon—lets loose a stream of fire that lights up the entire forest. The flames collide with the ice storm above, turning it into a storm of steam and light. Sparks rain around us like falling stars, melting snow wherever they touch.
The woman in the tower laughs, the sound carrying through the wind, too sweet, too sharp. “Pretty fire, little king. Let’s see if it can last!”
She raises both hands, and the tower groans, twisting as if alive, and walls of ice surge upward, curling into a shimmering shield. The fire slams into it with a hiss so loud it drowns everything else out, and steam spreads across the clearing, thick as fog. I can feel him—our bond thrumming hot and wild—but he’s hidden behind the smoke.
“Bella!” Ashlyn tugs at my arm. “We need to move! Preferably away from the homicidal snow queen!”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving him.”
Ashlyn blinks, deadpan even in the chaos. “That’s very romantic, but also incredibly stupid.”
“She’s attacking him because of me.”
“Yeah, well, she can get in line! Half the realm wants you dead!”
Her voice barely reaches me over the storm. The snow’s falling faster now—sheets of it, spinning in a furious blizzard. The woman’s voice drifts through it, taunting, melodic, cruel. “You should have stayed in your tower, Frostborn. The world doesn’t need to be thawed.”
My pulse spikes and the air hums under my skin, a low, electric burn. Fine, I think. Let’s see which of us it does need. I raise my hand, and frost gathers in my palm instantly, blue light crackling outward in branching veins. The bond between me and Damien surges, answering. It feels like fire curling under my skin—his power blending with mine until I can barely tell where one ends and the other begins. The dragon’s roar cuts through the storm again. I feel the heat before I see him—fire tearing upward, burning through the clouds of snow. His wings slice through the air, scattering the blizzard in their wake. I don’t flinch from the fire. I call to it. The flames twist toward me, curling around my outstretched arm like ribbons of gold. The frost on my skin flares in response, glowing silver-blue until they spiral together—ice and fire, perfectly balanced, perfectly mine.
Ashlyn stumbles back, eyes wide. “Okay, I take it back. That’s terrifyingly hot. Pun intended.”
The witch shrieks from her tower, shards of her ice walls melting and refreezing in panic. “No—no, that’s impossible!”
“Get used to disappointment,” I mutter.
The dragon sweeps low overhead, his heat washing over me, and I raise both hands toward the tower. “You wanted to play with ice?”
The frost in my palms pulses outward in a shockwave. It hits the ground, surging forward like a frozen tide—only instead of cold, it burns. Every crystal shines with inner fire, spreading in spirals toward the base of the tower. The ground trembles. The woman screams as the glow climbs the walls, melting and refreezing in uneven cracks. Damien lands beside me, the earth shaking under his claws. His wings flare wide, the fire around him roaring brighter. Through the bond, his voice is all gravel and flame. You’ve done this before.
Not like this.
Then let’s finish it together.
He roars again, and I throw out my hands. Fire and frost surge forward in unison, slamming into the base of the tower. The explosion that follows blinds me.
The tower cracks from the bottom up, spiderwebbing with fissures that glow molten red. The woman shrieks again, her silhouette blurring behind the ice. “You can’t kill me! The witch will—”
The rest of her words drown under the sound of the tower collapsing. Ice splinters rain down, melting before they hit the ground. The sound of her scream fades into nothing, carried off by the wind. And then, there is silence.
The dragon exhales, lowering his head beside me. Steam rolls off his scales, rising in waves that shimmer under the moonlight. I reach out, laying a trembling hand against his jaw. The warmth there hums through me—steady and grounding.
Ashlyn’s voice breaks the quiet. “Okay… so just to recap—crazy ice lady, tower explosion, possibly murdered a ghost, and now my eyebrows are frozen.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “You’re welcome.”
“Next time,” she mutters, “we camp near a beach.”
The dragon rumbles with amusement, and I swear he’s laughing.
I glance toward the ruins. The frost is gone, the snow melted into nothing but puddles and steam. The line dividing spring and winter has vanished, the world balanced again—at least for now.
“She was working for the witch,” I say softly.
Ashlyn wipes frost from her lashes. “You think?”
Damien shifts back, the sound of bone and flame and magic folding in on itself until he’s standing beside me again, bare-chested and breathing hard. His skin glows faintly from the heat, his eyes molten gold in the darkness.
“She wasn’t just working for her,” he says quietly. “She was part of her.”
I shiver, not from cold this time. “Like a shard of her power.”
He nods. “And we just shattered it.”
Ashlyn sighs, brushing snow from her coat. “Great. So how many shards are we talking here? Ten? Twenty? A hundred?”
Damien glances at the horizon, jaw tight. “Enough to make this only the beginning.”
The dragon’s voice hums faintly through our bond, deep and resolute. Let her send them all. We’ll burn every one.
And I believe him. Because as the smoke clears and the last of the frost melts into dew, the world feels different again. And I’m no longer afraid of what I am.