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THE NUMBING SALTWATER clung brutally to my lungs, making it twice as hard to breathe. Dirt and pebbles covered my clothes, weighing me down like a ton of bricks. I coughed violently, trying to clear my throat, and as my vision slowly cleared, I could finally make out the icy landscape.
Freezing blue waters connected streams forming rivers that flowed into a vast ocean, stretching for thousands and thousands of miles. And the snow—it was everywhere. As a princess, I had never witnessed such a beautiful sight. Blankets of white glistened over the land, while ice crystals formed on the tree limbs.
Where am I? I thought to myself as I struggled to stand on my two feet.
My memories are a distant blur after sailing the Black Sea. The quest for ancient treasures turned near-death experience. And now here I am, the Princess of Svelora, alone in a foreign land, doomed without a crew or resources.
At least I had my powers to rely on.
I shivered and clamped my hands together, breathing out warm puffs of air. Whiffs of smoke appeared in the chilly air, and I immediately started to feel strangely better. But it wasn't enough. I needed a fire and everything was practically covered in ice and snow. Not exactly ideal.
Now, what was I supposed to do?
I definitely didn't want to freeze to death in this winter wonderland.
With frostbitten, yet steady hands, I conjured flames, warming my body and turning cold into cozy refuge. But just as the flames grew larger, I heard voices behind me, and I knew I was in trouble.
"Sorcery!" I turned around to find two guards towering over me, swords pointed in my direction.
The male guard inched closer, leaving only a foot of space between us. My attention dropped to the sharp sword pointed at my chest, and I couldn't help but gulp nervously as the female guard pressed her weapon into my upper back.
"Hold it right there!" she warned. "Don't make any sudden moves for your safety and ours."
"I don't want any trouble. My name is—"
"Shut it!" the male guard cut me off.
Without hesitation, I raised my hands in surrender and allowed them to approach. The guards walked towards me, and I felt the cold, scratchy metal of the handcuffs encircle my wrists—a discomforting sensation, to say the least.
In a matter of moments, I was thrown into an empty charcoal grey carriage. The impact against the wooden walls sent aches coursing through my body, and I looked at the two guards with seriousness.
