It had been weeks since Tecna had disappeared into the Omega Dimension, and the Winx were still reeling from the loss. They had tried everything to find her, but all their efforts had been in vain. They were all grieving in their own way, but no one was taking it as hard as Bloom.
She had locked herself in her room and refused to talk to anyone. She was consumed by her guilt and her pain, blaming herself for Tecna's fate. She had been the one to make the decision that led to Tecna's sacrifice, and she couldn't forgive herself for it.
The rest of the Winx tried to reach out to her, but she wouldn't listen. She didn't want to see them, didn't want to face their pity and their disappointment. She felt like a failure, a fraud, a burden.
Meanwhile, in the dark corners of the castle, the Trix were lurking. They had been sent by Valtor to spy on the Winx, to gather information and weaknesses. They split up, each taking a different task.
Icy was assigned to keep an eye on Bloom, the supposed leader of the Winx. She had always been intrigued by Bloom, by her strength and her passion. She had also always envied Bloom, for having something that she herself had lost a long time ago: a purpose, a family, a home.
She watched Bloom through the window, hidden by the shadows. She saw Bloom sitting on her bed, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. She saw Bloom's face, contorted by pain and despair.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Bloom, the fiery and determined Bloom, was smoking. Icy knew that smoking was a sign of weakness, of addiction, of self-destruction. She knew that Bloom had never been a smoker before, and she wondered what had changed.
She decided to approach Bloom, to confront her, to find out the truth.
She knocked on the door, and after a moment of hesitation, Bloom opened it. She looked like a ghost, her eyes sunken and red, her hair unkempt, her clothes wrinkled.
"What do you want, Icy?" Bloom asked, her voice hoarse and hollow.
"I want to talk to you, Bloom," Icy said, trying to sound casual. "May I come in?"
Bloom shrugged and stepped aside, allowing Icy to enter. Icy looked around, taking in the mess and the gloom of the room. She saw the empty bottles of alcohol, the used tissues, the scattered papers.
"What happened to you, Bloom?" she asked, trying to hide her concern.
"Nothing happened," Bloom said, lighting another cigarette. "Everything's fine. Why do you care?"
"I care because we're all in this together," Icy said, approaching Bloom. "We're all fighting for something, aren't we?"
Bloom laughed bitterly. "You don't know anything about me, Icy. You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love, to fail your friends, to face your own demons."
Icy took a step closer, looking at Bloom with a mix of curiosity and compassion. "Maybe I don't know everything, Bloom. But I know that you don't have to go through this alone. You have your friends, your family, your magic. You have a future, Bloom. Don't give up on it."
Bloom snorted. "Easy for you to say, Icy. You don't have anything to lose. You're just a spy, a pawn in Valtor's game. You don't know what it's like to care, to feel, to suffer."
Icy flinched
---
Icy felt a pang of anger at Bloom's words. She had cared once, a long time ago, before her heart had been frozen by her own sister's betrayal. She had cared for her sisters, for her people, for her home. She had cared for Darcy, too, in a way that she couldn't explain or justify.
