Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 1: Purification

Snow. Crystallised shards, icy fire, tiny on their own, but lumped together created a blizzard. It was white new beginnings, nature's blank canvas. A blanket of coolness that silenced the world and demanded hibernation, purging its evils before the dawn of spring. Snow was purification and rebirth.

On a less poetic note, snow was also a reminder that whenever Ella's life became complicated, it could always take a turn for worse.

At first, the snow had not been so bad. It bit at her cheeks and cooled the hotness in her stomach, big gulps of crisp air that cleared her head. But rather soon, the innocent and ginger sweep of snowflakes began turning heavier and heavier. Soon, it became clear to Ella that running away from home during a snowstorm had not been the brightest of her decisions.

Snow fell in sheets around her, piling on her shoulders, weighing her heavy winter clothes down, making her body so stiff with cold, that she could only fight back against the merciless icy winds by keeping her chin down and trudging along.

She found herself surrounded by blinding whiteness and bitter cold that turned everything indistinguishable. No sky or roads in sight, only snow. There wasn't a soul in sight. No signs or inns, no friendly-looking villagers that might give her directions. Directions to where exactly? Ella didn't know. She'd left home without any plan, only a sense of urgency.

One thing was certain, she needed to find shelter soon, or she'd find herself in the middle of a blizzard, at nightfall, in an unknown land.

***

It could have been an hour, it could have been two. All Ella knew was that eventually, the blizzard became too intense and she was almost knee-deep in snow, yanking her legs along as if they were leaden weights.

She leaned against a large tree, taking cover against a particularly brutal gust of wind that made her plaster herself to the trunk to avoid falling. Frantically, she wiped her face with damp gloves. No amount of heating and drying charms could deter the freezing wetness. As the hours wore on and her energy dwindled, so did her magical core.

She closed her eyes briefly and attempted to get her wits about herself. She'd come across a post a while ago, half buried in the snow, announcing a town nearby. She reasoned it couldn't be much farther away. There, she could seek shelter at an inn.

Numb fingers pulled her scarf closer, uselessly clasping the hood of her cloak to avoid the fluttering. She was cold. So, so cold. Her muscles spasmed violently, and once again, Ella regretted fleeing so hastily. Yet again, she wished she'd not been so dramatic.

Really, had she staved her temper, she could be tucked under a cosy duvet in a well-heated palace. Seren could have given her a spare room and Ella could have safely had her strop in peace. But no, she'd gone and complicated her own life, with a snow storm no less.

Ella's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. She desperately missed Katram's bowls of hot soup and flaky bread. She would have killed for a cup of hot chocolate, anything warm! She was so deliriously cold, that she could even imagine the wispy curls of smoke coming from a steaming plate of food.

She must be dying, she thought. Perhaps she'd finally been pushed over the edge. She'd collapse and die, the blizzard would cover her up, and they wouldn't find her until spring came, melted the snow, and someone discovered her body. All because she'd been spoiled and dramatic. Truly, what a pathetic death, miserable, wet and... wait, was that actual smoke?

Ella squinted in bewilderment, lifting her gaze towards the source of the smoke. And lo and behold... a cabin. Smack in the middle of that frozen desert, peeking between a couple of scraggly trees and skinny pines.