Frostbound Shadows

CHAPTER 4: Whisper of winter

Chapter 4: Whispers of Winter

The following days brought no new visits from him, but the changes within me grew impossible to ignore. The frost that had crept over my skin in the forest seemed to pulse under the surface, like a quiet heartbeat, a part of me both comforting and alien. My fingertips tingled, and on occasion, I’d catch a glimpse of a faint, icy aura in my reflection—frost patterns that curled and faded as quickly as they appeared. Each time, I wondered if it was my mind playing tricks or the "mark of winter" that the god of frost had spoken of.

One evening, as I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror, I noticed it again—the frost tracing delicate patterns across my fingers, almost as if they were trying to tell me something. Taking a deep breath, I let my hand hover over the glass, watching the frost curl outward, spreading over the mirror in a lacework of ice.

It was beautiful, but also unsettling. I’d read stories of witches and magical beings, but nothing had prepared me for the reality of magic coming alive in my own veins. And as much as I wanted to deny it, I knew that these changes weren’t going to fade. They would only become stronger.

A knock sounded at my door, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Elara, sweetheart,” my mother called from the other side. Her voice held that familiar, gentle warmth, but I sensed an edge of concern. “Dinner is ready. Your father and I have something we need to discuss with you.”

“Coming,” I called, taking a final glance at the frost-covered mirror before letting it melt away, leaving only a faint trace of cold on the glass.

When I entered the dining room, my parents were seated, a somber expression shared between them. My mother looked graceful as always, with her rich dark hair swept up and her soft green eyes watching me with both affection and caution. My father, his sharp features softened by age, had a steady presence, though his brow was creased with worry.

“Sit down, Elara,” he said, his voice as steady as his gaze. “We think it’s time we spoke to you about… your abilities.”

I felt my stomach twist, though I kept my expression neutral. “What abilities?”

My mother exchanged a quick glance with my father, then looked back at me. “We’ve known for a while now that you were different,” she began, her voice soothing, though it carried a weight I wasn’t used to hearing. “From the day you were born, there were signs—strange things that happened around you, things we couldn’t explain.”

She reached out, taking my hand in hers. Her touch was warm, but it felt strange against the cold that lingered in my skin, almost like fire against frost. “We didn’t know how to explain it at the time, but we knew that something… extraordinary was part of you.”

My father nodded, his gaze steady but filled with worry. “When you were very young, you’d sometimes leave frost on your blankets in the middle of summer. Or, if you were upset, the temperature in the house would drop unexpectedly. We thought maybe it would fade as you grew older, but it’s only become stronger.”

Their words sank in slowly, and I felt the weight of realization settle over me. So I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. They had seen it too, even before I could understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, feeling a strange mix of betrayal and relief.

My father’s gaze softened. “We wanted to protect you. We didn’t know the source of this power, nor did we know if others would react kindly if they found out. But now, we can see that it’s part of you. And… we believe it may be time for you to learn more about it.”

My mother nodded, her hand still resting on mine. “There’s a place in the city, an event that happens once a year. It’s a gathering of sorts—a chance for those with… unusual gifts to be recognized. They test each person’s abilities with an enchanted orb that reveals their potential. If your powers are strong enough, they may invite you to study at Silvermist School of Magic.”

Silvermist. I’d heard of it, of course—a mysterious academy where only the gifted could train. People whispered about it in the village, saying that it was home to powerful sorcerers and those who wielded magic beyond comprehension. I’d never dreamed that I might have a place among them.

“When is this gathering?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“This week,” my father replied. “We thought it best if you took part, to understand what you’re truly capable of.”

The thought of showcasing my powers to others, of stepping into the unknown like that, sent a ripple of nerves through me. But I couldn’t deny the sense of anticipation growing in my chest. This was a chance—a way to find answers, to confront what had been lying dormant within me.

My mother placed her hand gently on my cheek, her gaze filled with warmth. “Elara, whatever happens, remember that we’re here for you. And that we love you.”

I managed a nod, taking in the gravity of her words. My parents had always been my grounding force, a reminder of the warmth and normalcy that I clung to. But as I looked at them now, I realized that I was ready—ready to face whatever awaited me, to uncover the mysteries of my power and confront the winter spirit that seemed to linger in my veins.

As I lay in bed that night, thoughts swirling, I felt the familiar pull of sleep, but this time it didn’t feel like I was slipping into an ordinary dream. The shadows deepened around me, the cold settling in my bones, and before I knew it, I was back in the realm of frost.

There, in the familiar frozen landscape, he waited—the god of frost and death, watching me with that steady, unreadable gaze. But this time, I felt a little braver, a little stronger, knowing I was beginning to understand what tied us together.

He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging my newfound awareness. “It seems you’ve come to accept your gift,” he said, his voice quiet but powerful.

I met his gaze, holding back the shiver his presence always brought. “I’m beginning to understand it, yes. And I’ll take whatever steps I need to learn what it means.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a trace of approval in his gaze. “Good. Then perhaps you are ready for what lies ahead.” He stepped closer, extending his hand to me. “In the days to come, remember this: your power is not a curse. It is a weapon, a shield, and a guide. Wield it wisely.”

I looked at his hand, hesitating, but then reached out, feeling the cold wrap around my own as we connected. His grip was steady, reassuring in a strange way. For the first time, I felt like he was not just some shadowy figure haunting my dreams but a presence that would stand beside me in whatever trials lay ahead.

When I awoke, the traces of frost on my fingertips were stronger, more vibrant, as if my connection to my power had deepened. And I knew that whatever awaited me at the gathering, whatever truth lay within the Silvermist School of Magic, I was ready to face it—winter, frost, and all.

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