The Cold She-wolf

Chapter Fifty-five: what if she is still alive?

   "Mirror of truth, mirror of fate, I command you to show me where the remaining items for my final installment as the winter queen are!!!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, aggressively hitting her scepter against the hard crystal mirror. She waited for the slightest sight of a glow, even if it was a dim light to show that her spell and commands were working, but she was met with the common glitter and shimmer of the beautiful crystal swan mirror. Icy growled and slammed the scepter against the mirror again. "I said, mirror of truth, mirror of mother fucking fate! Fucking show me where the hell Arabel hid the remaining items I need for my final coronation!!! Are you deaf or something?!!!"

   A man sat on the China blue ceramic chair behind her, his legs crossed and his cheek lazily resting on his hand which was held up by his elbow on the arm of the chair. He watched her with an apathetic expression on his face and droopy eyes. He rather be anywhere else but with the mad woman he served under, but he didn't exactly have a choice. For the sake of his goal, he needed her. He'd be done with her afterward.

   "Fucking hell!!! I said tell me where to find my belongings, you goddamn bullshit of a magic mirror!!!" Icy screamed, attempting to shake the mirror and rip it out of the wall. The man sighed and slid his palm down his face. He grudgingly reminded himself of why he was working with her. Icy turned around, her short pale azure mist-colored hair swishing through the air and whipping her face. Her shoulders rose and fell, her breathing coming out ragged and strained. She glared hard at him, expecting him to do something to assist him.

   He ran his eyes down her body. He still wasn't used to seeing her in a decent human form. After years of seeing her true form, this new body was disturbing to him. Icy had gone through a lot of trouble to acquire a body, even if it was temporary. For her to maintain the body, she needed the full powers of the winter witch, the seasonal guardian of winter. She had a limited time and unfortunately for her, the one thing that could help her wasn't abiding by her command. It took him a while, years in fact to figure it out, but he finally did. It wasn't a certainty but it was the only possible answer to their questions. He only needed the hotheaded witch to listen to him and believe his facts over her fiction.

   He lazily ran his fingers through his jet-black hair and sighed again. "If you'll only calm down, Icy, and listen," his deep voice echoed in the large and almost empty room. Icy briefly thought back to the first time the man appeared at her doorstep with the offer to assist her. His voice affected her for the longest time, but now she was used to it.

   Icy placed her hands on her small hips and glowered at him, giving him the chance to talk. "Icy, raging won't change anything, and being rude to her won't make her listen. It took us a lot to acquire that body for you so unless you want to wreck it early, you'll calm down and stop fuming pointlessly—"

   "Pointlessly? Pointless?!!! Damian, in case you don't realize it, I am going to lose this body either way! My dark magic has grown too strong, too powerful for me to remain on the throne as the ice queen, let alone, the witch of winter—"

   "Technically, you never were the witch of winter… sorry, pretend I never said that," he quickly apologized. Damn it. The woman was making him work more than he planned to, he thought. When he came to her with his offer, he thought it'd be simple to completely manipulate her and get her to do anything he wants but it wasn't. Icy soon proved him wrong as she was a total narcissist. Icy loved only herself and didn't want anyone else to get near her because she deemed herself too perfect, especially with her new beauty. Damian soon realized she was a lost course, but it was too late, he had already signed a contract with her.

   "Look, Icy," he started cautiously, "I have observed the situation and I have come to the conclusion that the reason for this is not just because the mirror has grown tired of you, but also because the true winter witch has come of age or power—"