Of Love and Death.

The Future Chapter 18: And So It All Ends Pt. 3

Bel couldn't move.

Bel had tried to move. He'd tried to get his legs to run away. Tried to raise up his hands. Tried to transform, spirit away as some small swallow. Ice seemed to run through his blood. Locking him in place, stiffening him. It didn't even let him breathe. Didn't even let him flinch away.

Time had frozen in place. Bel had thought he'd known the meaning of the phrase "time seemed to slow down" before. When Cold had first appeared in his kitchen, just a few- it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes ago. Probably less. But now, now it was like each moment was a frame. A single frame. And each frame felt like it lasted for an hour.

Directly in front of Bel, Cold brandished her icicle. Moving it downwards in slow motion, right for his face. He wasn't going to move out of the way in time. He was going to die. Bel was going to die. It was more certain now than ever before. Even at the park, he'd managed to get away. But Light wasn't here. There was no Hail Mary.

Bel wasn't going to defeat Crimson Eye in battle. He wasn't going to rematch Quadra, and fight for his and Belfyre's honor. He wasn't going to smile when he finally entered into the international championships, trying to fight to become the number one blader. He wasn't going to go to college. He wasn't going to embarrass Jamie on their birthday. He wasn't going to turn 18, graduate highschool. He wasn't going to do anything.

Because Bel was going to die. Belfyre I, Bel whispered in one moment. And he didn't hear anything back from the bey. Just grief. Grief like stillness and silence. Like regret, helplessness. Because there was no time for Bel's partner to say anything back. No time even for the bey to cry, to fully process that Bel was going to be gone. Because Bel was going to die. He was never going to hug anyone again. Never going to smile again. Never going to battle again.

Bel was going to fade away, gone forever.

And there was the icicle, right above Bel. Bearing down on him in still frames. Moving at a snail's pace, so that he could see it. So that he could be terrified of it. It was melting a little bit. No more was it kept frozen by the force of Cold's will. And it was going to hit him. Rip into his brains.

And there it was. Just a millimeter from his face.

And then, it stopped moving.

There was the sound of tearing skin. Of bone being shattered. Of blood pouring and seeping out. It was like cutting through steak. The clang, metallic, as it hit glass. As it hit ice. The sound of pain, as it sliced and screamed through Cold's soul. Again, a second time. Again, hurting her. Ripping her apart, forcing her to stumble and drop her icicle. Where it clattered, harmless on the floor.

Cold could feel it. She could feel her blood pouring out of her in rounds. Dripping away, flooding out from the jagged hole inside of her. The hole that ripped apart her heart. Shattered the ice inside of her. Forced her to stop her advance, forced her to freeze in place.

It was terrifyingly real, the blood leaving her. Cold could feel each drip and each drop as it fell down. Warm. She could feel the warmth of the world as it rushed into her. It was real. Cold could feel it. She could feel the moments slipping away from her. How she tried desperately to grip at them with her thoughts. With her mind. But her mind was weak. Her powers were gone, replaced by the ringing sound of the world.

The floor and the walls and the ice. They all tilted for Cold. Vertigo unlike anything life could ever give a person. How she suddenly felt lightheaded. Like a maniac who just wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh. Death's grip on her, digging his claws into her. Making her feel terror and fear. Physically. Actually physically.