The Cold She-wolf

Chapter Twenty: trouble in paradise

   Frozen solid, the castle stood tall with grace and strength. The hall to the throne room was filled with ice guards and wolves. Snow beasts at every corner of the castle guarding and protecting it. In the throne room, the coldest place in the castle, a tall ice throne stood. Reaching up to the ceiling in spiky feistiness. A woman sat on it with legs crossed and a wicked smirk on her face as she played with a little ball. Her eyes were colorless, her body was the thickest ice ever seen. Her hair was a cold smoke with a spiky crown on it and her fingers or rather, claws, dripping with cold poison.

   The door creaked open and four men walked in. Men? I wish. The first one was a rogue wolf, the leader to be precise. His Viking beard was braided and clipped with fancy pins, a sign that he had a daughter or two. His hair reflected the same thing, with glitter as an extra. His outfit was bright and colorful, but his scent was the opposite of his flashy look. The woman scrunched her nose as his scent tainted the air. The rogue smelt like the stronger version of a Tasmanian devil. It reminded her of why she disliked rogue animals.

   The second was a lycan. Tall, heavily built but ugly. Maybe it was the hideous scar on his face, maybe it was the darkness in his heart, or maybe he was just ugly. She could never tell which and she didn't care that much because the scar on his face acted as the holder to his strings. The third was a vampire with gray hair and steep red eyes. His lips were burst, from a battle or a nasty childhood fall. The expression on his face was stoic, showing off its unhappiness. The last was an old man with white hair and a beard and a white walking staff. He was the man she despised most.

   "Nice of you to join me," she said smugly, referring to him.

   "Why did you seek me, witch?" The old man asked with his croaked, shaky voice.

   She smiled. "You see, I'm not a witch, just a queen but the real witch is what I seek," she said with an innocent smile that gave them goosebumps. Not because it was terrifying, but because it was odd to her.

   "Your Majesty, what do you want from your servant?" The vampire asked respectively with a bow.

   "That's why I like you, Douglas, you are good with words," she said purringly. He smiled. "What I have been looking for has finally awakened. A whole new different power, the great eagle that belonged to the second winter witch,"

   "Icy, speak clearly, I don't have all day." Snapped the old man.

   "You don't have any life left, old man," she seethed. He hissed. "I need your help to capture her, my beautiful little niece. I can't leave my boundary because the stupid flora and autumn witches sealed me here. The spell to break the seal is taking longer than I thought, so you will bring her to me." She commanded.

   "And why do you think we will help you?" The Lycan asked scornfully.

   Icy smiled. She was waiting for him to tell her that. This is where the scar comes in. "Why? Simple! It has to deal with your enemy. What's his name again…? The one who scarred you like this and killed your father, then took away your lands?" She asked smirkingly. The lycan roared.

   "Cyrus! That bloody son of Cadmus!!!"

   "Easy there, Lucas, all in good times." She said sweetly.

   "How is Cyrus involved because I will love to deal with that over-pompous bastard that ruined my plans to conquer Lead Pack. I was so close to victory when he showed up and ruined everything. My wife and only son died there." The rogue said angrily.

   "Yes, we all know that story already," she rolled her eyes uninterestedly. "She is his mate. Do you know how hurt and vulnerable he would become if his mate dies?" She asked with a smirk.