Elara's POV
I woke up screaming.
The dream had been so real—I was standing in a frozen throne room, and everyone I'd ever known was frozen solid. Statues of ice. Morgana. Lysander. Even my father, preserved forever in his moment of death.
And I was laughing.
"Just a dream," I gasped, sitting up in bed. "Just a dream."
But the walls of my room told a different story. They were covered in symbols now—glowing blue writing that pulsed with each beat of my heart.
I touched one of the symbols, and suddenly I knew what it meant.
Hunger.
I jerked my hand back, heart racing.
A knock on the door made me jump. "You're awake," Caelan's voice called. "Good. We have work to do."
I dressed quickly in the clothes he'd given me—thick pants and a warm tunic that actually fit better than I expected. When I opened the door, Caelan was already walking away down the corridor.
"Wait!" I hurried after him. "The symbols in my room—"
"I know. I saw them."
"What do they mean?"
"That we're running out of time faster than I thought." He didn't slow down. "Follow me."
He led me deep into the fortress, down stairs I hadn't seen before, into sections that felt older. Ancient. The ice here was darker, like it had been frozen for centuries.
We reached a massive door covered in locks.
"What's in there?" I asked.
"My training room. Where I learned to control magic that wanted to consume me." He pulled out a key made of ice. "Where you're going to do the same."
The locks clicked open one by one. The door swung inward, revealing a huge chamber. The floor was marked with circles and symbols. Scorch marks—or rather, freeze marks—covered the walls.
"What happened here?" I whispered.
"Me. Twenty years ago. When I first started losing control." Caelan walked to the center of the room. "Stand here."
I joined him in the middle circle.
"Now," he said. "Show me your magic. All of it. Don't hold back."
"But what if I—"
"The room is designed to contain it. You can't hurt me. Try."
I raised my hands and let the ice come.
It exploded from me in a wave—spikes shooting in every direction, frost spreading across the floor, the temperature dropping so fast I saw my breath freeze in midair.
Caelan didn't move. The ice hit an invisible barrier around him and stopped.
"More," he commanded.
"That's all I—"
"No it's not. You're holding back. Afraid of what you might do." He stepped closer, right up to the edge of my ice. "Stop being afraid and show me what you really are."
Something in his words snapped the chain I'd been keeping on my power.
The ice erupted again, ten times stronger. The entire room filled with frozen spikes. The walls cracked. The floor shattered.
And still Caelan stood there, watching.
"Good," he said calmly. "Now pull it back."
"I can't!"
"Yes, you can. The magic is yours. You control it, not the other way around."
I tried. I really did. But the ice wouldn't listen. It kept growing, spreading, consuming everything.
"I can't stop it!" Panic rose in my chest.
Caelan walked through my storm of ice like it wasn't even there. He grabbed my hands, and suddenly I felt his magic—cold and controlled and impossibly strong—wrapping around mine.
"Breathe," he said. "Focus on my voice. The ice is part of you. Pull it back inside."
"It's too strong—"
"So are you." His gray eyes locked with mine. "You survived six months in the Wastes alone. You survived betrayal, exile, and creatures that would kill trained soldiers. You are strong enough for this."
I focused on his hands holding mine. On his steady breathing. On the sound of his voice.
Slowly, inch by inch, I pulled the ice back.
It fought me every step. But gradually, it returned to my body. The spikes melted. The frost faded.
Finally, it was done.
I sagged forward, exhausted. Caelan caught me before I fell.
"How did you do that?" I asked. "Control my magic?"
"I didn't. You did." He helped me stand. "I just gave you something to focus on besides the fear."
We stood there for a moment, his hands still steadying me. This close, I could see the scars on his face—thin white lines I'd missed before.
"What happened to you?" I asked quietly. "In your exile. What did they do?"
His expression went cold. He released me and stepped back. "That's not relevant."
"You know what happened to me. It's only fair—"
"Fair?" He laughed bitterly. "You want to talk about fair? Your father ordered me dragged through the palace in chains. He let the nobles spit on me. He stood there and watched while they carved the word 'traitor' into my back."
I felt sick. "My father did that?"
"Your father. Your beloved, honorable king." Caelan's voice was ice. "Then he threw me into the Wastes in the middle of winter with nothing but the clothes on my back. No food. No supplies. Nothing."
"But you survived."
"Barely. And only by becoming something worse than the things hunting me." He turned away. "So don't talk to me about fair, Princess. There's nothing fair about any of this."
Silence filled the training room.
I wanted to apologize. To say I was sorry for what my father had done. But words felt useless.
"He was wrong," I said instead. "My father. What he did to you was wrong."
Caelan looked back at me, surprised.
"And if we succeed," I continued, "if we take back the throne and expose Varius—I'll make it right. I'll clear your name. Publicly. In front of the entire kingdom. I'll give you back everything they took from you."
"You can't give me back twenty years."
"No. But I can give you justice."
He studied me for a long moment. "And what do you get out of this deal?"
"Your help. Your knowledge. Your power." I met his eyes. "I can't do this alone. I need someone who understands the magic, who knows Varius's methods, who can teach me to fight."
"You need a weapon," Caelan said flatly.
"I need a partner."
That caught him off guard. I could see it in his face.
"Partners implies equality," he said. "Trust. I don't trust you."
"I don't trust you either," I replied honestly. "But we both want the same thing—to destroy Varius and take back what he stole from us. That's enough to start."
Caelan was quiet, thinking.
Then he held out his hand. "Fine. We have a deal. But I have conditions."
"Name them."
"One: You do exactly what I say in the field. I've survived these Wastes for twenty years. You've survived six months. I'm in charge of keeping us alive."
"Agreed."
"Two: You don't lie to me. Ever. About anything. I've been lied to enough for one lifetime."
"Same goes for you," I said.
He nodded. "Fair. And three—" His expression went deadly serious. "If you betray me, if I discover this is all some Winterborne trick, if you prove to be anything like your father—"
"You'll kill me," I finished. "I know. You've already said that."
"I want you to really understand it." He stepped closer. "I won't hesitate. I won't feel guilty. I will end your life without a second thought. Do you understand?"
I should have been scared. Any sane person would be.
But instead, I felt... relieved. At least with Caelan, I knew exactly where I stood. No pretty lies. No false promises. Just brutal honesty.
"I understand," I said. "And I accept your terms."
We shook on it. Again, I felt that spark of magic between our palms—stronger this time.
"That feeling," I said. "What is it?"
"Recognition. Your ice calling to mine." He released my hand quickly. "It'll get stronger as you train. Try to ignore it."
"Why?"
"Because getting attached to people in this business is a good way to get killed."
He turned and walked toward the door. "Rest for an hour. Then we're going on a field exercise."
"Where?"
"There's a frozen temple two miles north. Inside is an artifact we'll need if we're going to track Varius's rituals." He paused. "It'll also be your first real test. If you can't survive this, you're not ready for the palace."
After he left, I sat down on the frozen floor, exhausted.
A deal with the Ice Sorcerer. Either the smartest or stupidest thing I'd ever done.
Probably both.
I closed my eyes for just a moment—
And opened them to find myself somewhere else.
Not the training room. Not the fortress.
I was standing in the palace throne room. But it was wrong. Everything was covered in ice. Frozen bodies lined the walls—nobles I recognized, servants, guards.
All dead.
And sitting on the throne was Morgana.
Except it wasn't Morgana anymore. Her skin was pure white ice. Her eyes glowed blue. Frost spread from her with every breath.
"Sister," she said, her voice echoing with something inhuman. "I've been waiting for you."
"This isn't real," I said. "This is another dream."
"Is it?" Morgana stood, and the temperature dropped so low I felt my tears freeze on my face. "Or is this a vision of what's coming? What Varius is making me become?"
"Fight it!" I shouted. "You're stronger than this!"
She laughed—a sound like cracking glaciers. "Am I? Are you?" She walked toward me. "We're the same now, Elara. Both of us marked by the Entity. Both becoming monsters."
"No—"
"Yes." She reached out and touched my face with fingers of ice. "The difference is, I've accepted what I am. You're still fighting it."
"Because I won't let it win!"
"It's already won." Morgana's smile was terrible. "The moment Varius framed you, the moment they threw you into the Wastes, the moment your magic awakened—we lost. Now we're just walking toward the inevitable."
"I don't believe that."
"Then prove me wrong." Her hand tightened on my face. "Come back to the palace. Stop Varius. Save me."
"I will!"
"You can't save me." Tears—actual tears—ran down Morgana's frozen face. "But maybe you can kill me before I destroy everything. Promise me, Elara. Promise you'll end me if I become a monster."
"Morgana—"
The vision shattered.
I gasped and found myself back in the training room. Caelan was shaking my shoulder.
"You were screaming," he said. "What did you see?"
I told him about the vision. About Morgana on the throne, transformed into something terrible.
His expression grew darker with each word.
"It's not just a vision," he said quietly. "It's a warning. The Entity is showing you what will happen if we fail."
"Then we can't fail."
"Princess—Elara—you need to understand something." He gripped my shoulders. "If your sister has already been fully claimed by the Entity, there's only one way to stop it."
I knew what he was going to say.
"We have to kill her," I whispered.
"Yes."
"Even if there's a chance to save her?"
"Especially then. Because hesitation will get us all killed." His eyes bored into mine. "Can you do it? When the moment comes, can you kill your own sister?"
I wanted to say yes. To be strong. To be the warrior this situation needed.
But I couldn't lie.
"I don't know," I admitted.
Caelan released me and turned away. "Then we're already dead."