The Icarian Bond

Syrire

              When Syrire awoke, it was freezing, and not the fun kind that feels like kisses from little winter pixies that play tricks on you during snow days when you're a child. You know when the snowfall hazes over and the border between realms glistens ever so serene; where you aren't really sure if you seen a giant snow creature or your eyes are playing tricks from the lack of everything else living, but if you tell grandma that she will say it was definitely the pixies playing tricks and to not venture any further. No... that's not what this was. This too, lacked anything living, but there was no fun, light-hearted sentiment following. For starters, Syrire had no idea where she was. The ice forming around her was so cold it burnt of a thousand embers threatening to scorch her skin in a single embrace. With each passing moment, more ice sculpted itself as if it was trying to encase her like a trophy. Too thick to see through the other side, but just frosted enough that she could see her parts of reflection if she really tried. Syrire.. Look what you've done. Pathetic little girl. Her negative thoughts rang loudly in her head, she felt as if she could hear them the harder she tried to get a clear glimpse of herself. Syrire's abdomen squeezed in cramping motion. That sour milked feeling in her stomach as a sharpened icicle ripped up through the ice on her right side making her twist in regret when the ice slid up against her exposed skin, seering it in an instant. She jumped to her original position before noticing she had just enough room to wiggle free if she stayed on her stomach. Crawling on her elbows made her heart frustrated at the pushback from the slickness. She was almost out of the encasement when smack! Bumping her head off the rough searing stalactite, her nails dug at the freezing ground struggling for grip to give leverage to move for the final push to escape. She laid on the cold floor taking in the pain and large caverns around her. This isn't home, she thought to herself. Though Syrire couldn't remember where home was, she knew she didn't belong where this is. Syria rolled onto her back staring up at the never ending cave and hissed at the sting on the back of her head. It felt like fire had singed off her tiny portions of her hair. She guessed due to the smell of smoke suddenly around her and the throbbing heated headache gracing the back of her head. What kind of bewitched frost is this? When she dared to reach up all she felt was a rough, hot bump that reminded her of getting the worst sunburn ever. Before she could examine herself any further a loud cracking sound followed somewhere in the distance. Strong wind whooshed around the upper quadrant of this icy cavernous labyrinth causing an ominous hum. That was all the warning she needed to start running, finding the strength to scramble up to her feet, the clopping of her heels sounding like a choir of drums playing hundreds at a time. If only she knew where she was and how to escape it. Dodging the falling snow with her best ability, the chill made her wish she was wearing something warmer. A huge shadow casted overhead, causing goosebumps to tiptoe up her spine, that sour feeling in her stomach worsening from a cramp to a full on stitch in her sides making it hard to catch a full breath. I'm being hunted?, Syrire ran faster. Always. Breath swirling in puffs of smoke as her lungs burned as much as the wounds appearing on her arms, it finally clicked in her head. Syrire read about a place like this, in a world of magic it's quite amusing to imagine anything was a myth. Could of had me fooled. Humongous baby blue and white marbles icicles jutted from the ceilings and walls. Soft layer snow over translucent ice covered the ground. A maze with no beginning and no end. A place where you burn from the rebirth. Winter that looked peaceful but offered only violent nature... Frevde. The final circle of the underworld. It was impossible.

        Syrire ignored the pain radiating over her body and in complete disbelief to her revelation, crouched cautiously on a thicker patch of snow. Thick heels make it hard to maintain a powerful squatting position. She took another deep breath preparing for the burning pain before gently taking her hand and pushed the fluffy powder off the floor. She wished deep breaths soothed the pain, but it was hard to ignore the smell of her own flesh rotting. She pushed some of the snow back and jumped in fear, nearly falling back when a face mid screaming in agony lay still under the ice. If she knew any better she would have thought it was a bad Halloween decoration. Hair bristled and covered in icicles. Their eyes glazed over in a dreamy suffering. They shifted ever so slightly at her waving her hand in front of them, almost involuntarily. She ignored the blisters now swelling up her forearm to brush more and more snow away revealing one body after another. As if frozen in time. Can they hear me? Can they see me? Are they even alive? The thought of waking up on top of who knows how many dead frozen bodies made Syrire's stomach flip like an acrobat performing their final dare devil stunt. She was a nymph, it was literally her job was to be a healer in her village. That much she could remember, at least. Sure, that typically meant taking their secrets to ease their mind and hearts, but maybe she could save these people too. Balancing herself gently, she took off the high heel she had on. Half hoping the thickness of would be blunt enough to even chip away the eternal frost, half silently cursing whomever put her in this outrageous outfit. In order to stop their pain, she had to touch them. She raised her arm to try and break the ice, but before a swing could come-