Many days later..
Linadriel Icestorm reaches out with her palm, watching the Iridescent snowflakes gently alter course around her gloved hand. It is a beautiful night. One to remember.
A stallion neighs from within the storm. Even this stallion, mount of death, is an evil creature. Even he would attempt to kill her. Raising the Sword of Elestael, she uses it's light like a lantern, but it is unable to pierce the encroaching shadowed darkness.
A scream penetrates from the darkness, increasingly louder. She sees the crossbow bolt well before it is a danger, but she does not move. A ghostly face, a poisoned soul, is attached to the bolt, screaming as it flies towards her. Still, she does not flinch as the bolt rushes by her face, rustling her hair. She hears the bolt embed itself within the tree behind her, then the moan of the soul as it is transferred to the tree, forever to live within the first living creature it touched.
The bolt was not meant to kill her; only to test her resolve. His scythe yearned for her blood.
She can now see his red, glowing eyes in the darkness, staring into her own soul as if deciding what pedestal to put it upon.
"My soul is not yours, demon. Now is where it ends", she yells into the darkness.
Death laughs, a deep, evil bellow that reverberates through the trees.
Even the wind holds its breath, as if time has frozen on this moment.
The stallion, impatient, rears up with an exhalation of cold air from its nostrils, before charging at her, carrying its master with raised scythe.
Linadriel murmurs a few elven words lightly, summoning magic to her aid. Large icicles push out from the snow in front of her, forming a wall of pikes between her and the charging stallion.
Another laugh from death pushes through the forest as he raises his scythe upon his mount. Dark shadows swim off the scythe and shoot out into the pikes of ice, exploding on contact. Fragments bombard her face and fall like hail around her, but she holds her ground.
Calling to the wind, she asks it to help her, whispering ancient elven words. The wind hears her plea, responding with an expulsion of force, driving snow and ice into the face of death. She knows it will not stop him, but it will dull his vision. She darts forward, jumping into the pushing wind, using it to propel her. She rides the turbulent wind like a mount of her own, rising to throw herself blade first at her foe. The gap closing quickly, she can almost see the look of surprise on his face as she appears, its mouth growing wider as if screaming. She pulls back the Sword Of Elestael, the gift from the Staff Of Stars, readying to thrust its magic blade into the gaping maw that is his mouth.
As she starts the thrust, a train of souls expells from the maw, pounding into her like a tsunami wave. The force of the hits send her reeling through the air before slamming her into the trunk of a large tree, removing what breath she has left.
She struggles to her knees as Deaths cackle resonates behind her. She can hear the stallions hooves crushing the snow beneath it as it walked towards her, but her body struggles to respond to her will to move. Turning her head, Linadriel can see Death now above her, scythe high in the air. She feebly raises her blade but knows it cannot withstand the blow that is to come.
As the scythe starts down, a flash of moving black and white stripes appear from the darkness, uttering a fierce roar. A large white tiger soars with a leap over the stallion, grabbing its rider with jaws and claws, dragging it to the ground. Hitting the ground, Death reaches behind with bony fingers, attempting to remove the tiger from its back; but the feline holds on strong. Failing to remove it physically, Death uses its dark magic to materialize into a spirit briefly, relinquishing the hold of the beast. Returning to corporeal form, it turns to slaughter the roaring creature with its scythe.
Linadriel summons the rest of her energy, drawing from the Sword Of Elestael. With its back turned and distracted, she takes her chance at its exposed back, launching magic imbued icicles.
Death screams as the icicles puncture into it, the magic burning the souls trapped inside. The tiger takes advantage of the weakened moment, swiping at Deaths legs, its magical claws tearing through like wet paper. Withered souls begin to escape from the wounds, moaning and wailing before disappearing into the night.
Linadriel charges forward and thrusts the blade into the back of the demon with all of her strength, burying it to the hilt. Death howls angrily, spinning and slapping her with a bony arm, sending her tumbling backwards. As she hits the ground, she hears a horn sounding; a familiar sound, a sound she almost dismissed as her imagination. Then she sees them step out from the darkened forest around her. Druids, hundreds of them, armed with golden bows.
Death, wounded and angry, opens his mouth to use his dark magic, but it is interrupted by the launching of arrows. Hundreds of the golden and glowing arrows stream through the air, slamming into him. Thousands more souls pour out of it, until there is nothing left but a yellow skeleton that falls to the ground and bursts into dust in the white snow.
Linadriel sits upon her knees, staring at the dust and empty cloak. It is over. Finally over. Clutching her ribs, a single tear runs down her cheek. The white tiger pads softly over the fallen snow, coming to a sitting position in front of Linadriel, watching her.
The Snow Elf gazes into the tigers beautiful blue eyes with amazement.
"Thank you," she says weakly.
The tiger chuffs once, then begins to transform, a human body taking shape. A nude girl with pale skin and bright blue eyes now sits before her.
Taken aback, Linadriel gasps.
"Who are you?"
The girl responds, tears appearing from her bright blue eyes.
"I am Destiny. Destiny Icestorm. Hello, mother."
An older Druid steps forward and places a flowing golden cloak around the girl, leaving a strong hand on her shoulder, which she holds with her own hand.
"Grandfather, this is my mother, Linadriel Icestorm."
The white bearded Druid steps forward with a friendly smile, offering his hand to the Ice Princess.
"Well met, Princess. My grand-daughter has told me much about you."
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I will probably redo this at a later date, as I hurried it to meet the contest deadline. Famtasy was definitely a challenge, especially with these busy weeks!
It is also un-edited as of yet. Apologies.
