When Ryn opened his eyes again, the world had turned cold.
The gentle glow of the elven courtyard dimmed as frost crept outward from his boots — thin lines of ice carving through moss and marble alike. The guards who had been ready to mock him now stood frozen, not by magic, but by sheer disbelief.
His breath misted faintly, each exhale curling like smoke.
And across his face, the frost thickened — sculpting itself into a mask.
It wasn't rough ice; it was crystalline, sharp-edged, like a carved diamond that shimmered in blue-white hues. It covered his entire face, smooth and flawless, except for a single exposed eye — his right one, glowing faintly like the heart of winter itself.
No other gap. No warmth. No trace of the joking thief.
Only the Ice Fox.
The air grew heavy. Even Princess Ilyndra's flowers began to wilt under the chill.
The elven princess stood poised in the center of the courtyard, her aura flaring green, vines rising like serpents from the ground. Her expression had shifted — curiosity replaced by something rarer.
Awe.
She whispered, "So, the rumors were true. The spirit of the Ice Fox still lingers…"
Ryn tilted his head. His voice was lower, layered with something ancient beneath it.
"Three percent of my power. Let's hope she's as good as you said."
The Ice Fox's whisper echoed faintly inside him: "Do not disappoint me."
The first strike came from Ilyndra.
She raised her hand, and the earth erupted. Roots as thick as serpents burst upward, spiraling toward him, glowing with emerald runes.
Ryn didn't move.
He lifted one hand lazily — a gesture more dismissive than defensive — and frost erupted from his fingertips, blooming into intricate snowflakes that twisted midair.
The roots froze before they touched him, trapped mid-motion like sculptures.
He flicked his wrist. They shattered with a sound like breaking glass.
Gasps echoed through the watching elves.
Ilyndra's smile returned, sharper now. "So the Ice Fox has teeth after all."
"Fangs, technically," Ryn murmured, his voice carrying a wry edge even through the mask.
She stepped forward, the ground blooming with glowing flowers beneath her feet. "Then bare them."
Vines shot out again — dozens this time — faster, sharper, slicing through the air.
Ryn crouched slightly. "Okay, that's new."
He swept his arm in a circular motion. Frost spiraled outward like a blizzard caught in a whirlpool. The vines that touched it froze instantly — not brittle, but crystalized, translucent and radiant.
They shattered in a wave of blue shards that glittered around him like a thousand falling diamonds.
He smirked beneath the mask. "Pretty. You should see what happens when I try."
Ilyndra's expression flickered — a mix of irritation and fascination.
She extended both hands now, and the entire courtyard came alive.
From the roots beneath, the Great Tree itself stirred.
Its branches twisted down, glowing runes pulsing along its bark. A massive whip of living vines lashed toward him, snapping through the air like a thunderclap.
Ryn whistled. "All right. Big plant. Got it."
He lifted his hand. A circle of frost symbols flared beneath his feet — six intricate sigils spinning in sequence.
He stomped once.
The ground cracked.
Ice pillars erupted upward, intercepting the whip, freezing it mid-swing. Frost spread through the vines like lightning, crawling up the Great Tree's roots.
Ilyndra frowned. "You dare freeze my sacred tree?"
Ryn shrugged. "It started it."
Then, before she could react, he vanished — a blur of frost and mist.
When he reappeared, he was behind her, hand raised. "Tag."
A burst of cold exploded from his palm, knocking her backward in a swirl of snow and petals. She landed gracefully, sliding across the frozen ground, her breath misting.
Her lips curved. "So you do have spirit after all."
"Yeah," Ryn said, voice echoing faintly through the mask. "Three percent of it, apparently."
The Ice Fox's voice whispered inside his head: "Stop talking and finish it."
"Right. Sorry."
He lifted both hands this time. Frost gathered around him like storm clouds — each shard of ice swirling faster, compressing into a single glowing sigil above his palm.
Ilyndra's vines lashed upward, but he moved first.
He snapped his fingers.
The sigil detonated.
A spiral of ice tore through the courtyard, carving through vines, air, and sound itself — a silent explosion that left behind a glittering trail of frost.
The shockwave hit Ilyndra squarely, sending her sprawling against her throne of roots. For a moment, silence reigned.
Then, slowly, the frost began to melt.
The elven guards stood frozen — literally and figuratively — staring at the courtyard now half-covered in radiant ice.
Ryn stood in the center, cloak fluttering in the lingering mist. The mask still shimmered like diamond, one blue eye glowing faintly through the frost.
He tilted his head. "Huh. Guess three percent's enough."
Inside, the Ice Fox's laughter purred. "You did well, little thief."
He smirked. "You sound surprised."
"You surprised me by surviving."
"That's fair."
Her presence began to fade, her voice softening. "Remember our deal, Ryn. You live, I live."
"Yeah, yeah. Try not to haunt me."
The frost receded from his body. The glowing lines dimmed. The diamond mask cracked slightly — a web of fractures spreading across it — before it shattered into snow, scattering into the air.
Ryn blinked, one eye still glowing faintly blue. He exhaled slowly.
"Well," he muttered, "that was fun. Terrifying, but fun."
Princess Ilyndra rose slowly from her throne, brushing frost from her sleeve. Despite her defeat, her expression was serene — almost amused.
"You held back," she said. "I felt it."
"Wouldn't want to break your garden," Ryn replied.
A ripple of laughter spread through the elves — uncertain, surprised.
Ilyndra stepped forward until she stood just a few feet away, her eyes gleaming. "You truly are unlike any spirit bearer I've met. Foolish, reckless, and powerful beyond reason."
"I get that on my birthday cards."
She smiled faintly, the warmth of it unsettling. "You've proven your strength. And your… charm."
Ryn blinked. "Charm?"
She tilted her head, the faintest glint of mischief in her eyes. "Perhaps I should keep you."
"...Keep me?"
"As a guest, of course."
Lysandra, who had been rushing toward them, froze mid-step. "Wait, what do you mean—"
Ilyndra raised a hand. "Princess Lysandra, bearer of the Rose Spirit. You may return home. My guards will see you safely beyond the forest."
Lysandra frowned. "And Ryn?"
The elf princess's smile widened. "He stays. As my… fiancé."
Ryn blinked once. Then twice. "I'm sorry, what now?"
"You've bested me, Ice Fox. Among our kind, that earns both respect and… consideration."
He groaned. "You're proposing because I froze your plants? That's not how dating works!"
Ilyndra laughed softly, like wind through leaves. "Oh, you'll learn our customs soon enough."
Lysandra stepped forward, cheeks puffing slightly in disbelief. "You can't just take him!"
The princess glanced her way. "You seem concerned."
"I—! It's not—! He's an idiot, but he's our idiot!"
Ryn sighed. "Great. Reduced to a communal idiot."
Ilyndra merely chuckled and turned away. "Rest tonight, Ice Fox. Tomorrow, we'll discuss your… new role."
Ryn watched her leave, muttering, "Three percent of her power, huh? Next time I'm negotiating with the terms first."
The elves began dispersing, leaving him alone with Lysandra.
She glared. "You just had to win, didn't you?"
He shrugged, still half-dazed. "Would losing have been better?"
"Not if it means engagement!"
He gave a crooked grin. "Hey, look on the bright side. Free housing. Maybe even dental."
She sighed. "You're hopeless."
"Yeah," he said softly, glancing at the shards of frost glittering in the moonlight. "But apparently, I'm someone's hopeless now."