The Angel of Frost

I.

Hasuma twirled her fingers, sending a flurry of pink petals drifting through the sunlit air around her. She danced with delight in the soft currents of the clear water.

The river was named Namanta, which meant 'river', much to her dismay. The ancients were not fond of harnessing their creativity when it came to names.

As she swam back towards her home, she mentally slapped herself. 'Not fond of harnessing their creativity when it came to names.' And you say that despite your name literally meaning 'lotus'. Remind yourself to not insult the ancients next time, she thought to herself. She then flicked her tail, sending herself closer towards her home in the far north.

She had been named after the so-called "lily of the river", the lotus, because of her soft and delicate features, silky pink hair, and river blue eyes. Her mother had said that her colorful personality showed itself in ways that were as varied as the flower's petals.

She waved at the flower fairies who passed by. They bowed and waved their hands in response, causing an assortment of flowers to appear in her hair. They snickered as they flew away. She chuckled. According to some friendlier fairies, it was rude for flower fairies to wear flowers in their hair. She thanked the deities that it was a simple honor for nymphs to do so. Nymphs loved flowers.

Her quiet appraisal of the bouquet in her hair was interrupted by a gust of chilling wind heading in her direction. The flowers fell into the water, swept away by a rapid. The once gentle river had become turbulent.

She didn't even have time to flee a few strokes. A bitterly cold wave rushed into her like an angry bull, and she tumbled downstream. Despite being able to breathe underwater, she felt like she was drowning, panic choking her lungs. She silently cried as the river swept her down, down south, towards an unknown sea.

At last, she stopped crying, and she took in deep breaths as she kept her eyes closed. The cold had numbed all sense of time. How long had it been? Hours? Days? She did not know. But what she knew was that she was approaching the sea. She could sense animals by the riverbank scurrying to find shelter in the howling storm and felt their presence fading slowly. She passed a panicked fish as it writhed against the current in vain. She remembered the great river city of Petralos, and she could even see her mother glowering down at her, screaming about not knowing her whereabouts.

Soon, all familiar life around her had ceased, and she entered a new world as her tongue tasted salt. She knew that it would be much more than a few weeks before she could see her overbearing mother again.

*

Glaucus spread out his arms as he let raw streams of power pour into him, filling his body. He could taste the cold water found in the unfathomable depths of the sea, waiting to be unleashed by a snap of his fingertips in the form of an endless onslaught of frost. But that had to wait. He was doing what any sane angel does after he is reborn: checking his surroundings.

Below him, he saw water, which was not surprising, considering that he had gathered his energy from the sea. It rolled over itself as if disturbed by a strong wind. Either the waves seemed more peaky than usual, or much had changed in the last few centuries. He began to wonder whether he had made a stormy entrance into this world.

Then he saw her. Floating in the waves, sound asleep, was a nymph. And no nymph survived in saltwater for more than a day.

He shrugged at the still form and sighed. "Well, duty calls," he muttered.

*