Prologue: Winter is Coming

It warm that night. The pines groaned in the wind, their ancient trunks swaying gently. The sky was crystal clear, leaving the moon free to shine like a second sun, its ethereal light blocking out all but the brightest of stars. The eternal snow on the high mountain peaks reflected the moonlight like giant mirrors, twinkling like a blanket of diamonds across the sharp slopes.

In the Valley of the Living Rock the trolls slept, a jumble of inconspicuous moss-covered boulders to the untrained eye. One boulder bearing a substantial coating of dry grass slowly unfurled itself, revealing the oldest and wisest troll among the clan

Grand Pabbie rubbed his eyes sloppily, wondering what had roused him from his slumber. For the elder troll to wake at this hour, much less at all, was a rare occurrence. After all, this was someone who had once slept through a tree falling on him.

"Wha' in the world?" he yawned sleepily. He stretched his arms as he scanned for whatever had disturbed him. There was nothing out of place he could discern. His scattered sleeping family remained as motionless as always, their moss coverings still green as ever. Steam rose from the vents surrounding their home, quietly disappearing into the air. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Must've been my imagination," he mumbled to himself. He gave a yawn and smacked his lips, curling back into a ball.

That was when he felt it.

It was a sensation beyond what the five mortal senses could detect. Pabbie felt it in a way that had nothing to do with his skin. It was an intangible pressure only those long versed in the ways of magic could detect. He felt a magical presence approaching quickly.

But not just any presence. It was ancient and powerful, far too strong to be coincidence. This sorcerer wanted him to notice. Yet neither the magnitude nor rapid approach of this presence was the true reason this midnight visitor had jolted him wide-awake. If it were most others he would brush it off and stay asleep, or at least tell them to come back in a month or so.

He knew this sorcerer. He knew him well. They had been comrades since Pabbie first became elder of the rock trolls, and with the elder troll before him, and the elder before him and so on. Yet the sorcerer had been absent from the world for centuries now. What was he doing here tonight?

Pabbie started running from troll to troll, rapping them sharply as he went. "Wake up! Everybody wake up! Up! Up! Quickly now!"

One by one the boulders came to life as the trolls awoke, yawning and stretching loudly. Those that roused began waking their neighbors as Pabbie continued bringing his people back to consciousness.

"What's going on, Pabbie?" asked a particularly round and sleepy troll. "Why'd you get us up at this forsaken hour?"

"We have a visitor!" exclaimed Pabbie as he worked to keep one of his grandchildren from drifting back to sleep. "Quick! Make yourself presentable!"

"Is it Kristoff?" asked a female troll excitedly.

Immediately many of the trolls woke up, thrilled at the prospect of a visit from their adoptive son even if it was the dead of night.

"No," said Pabbie, earning disappointed moans from the trolls

"Then who is it?"

"It's—!"

There was a sound of heavy wing beats. A large black raven swooped out of the sky and landed n the center of the trolls. It was unusually large for a raven, standing over a foot tall. Were it any other bird the trolls would not have paid it much attention unless it started trying to steal their crystals.

But this was no ordinary raven. Its body was made of charcoal and fire. Glowing orange and red lines were etched all across its feathers like threads of firelight. The lines converged on four ember eyes that glowed bright. It had none of the twitching movements of a normal raven, holding itself tall and noble.

The startled trolls backed away, unnerved by the unnatural bird as it surveyed them with unblinking eyes. It ruffled its feathers, sending out a shower of sparks that made them retreat further.

"Let me through, please! Move aside! Let me through!" Pabbie shoved his way as politely as possible through his kin until he pushed through, stumbling out to come face to face with the raven. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Grace my grass! It is you!" He bowed low to the bird, an oddly formal gesture for one so fond of the informal. "A pleasure to see you again, my lord."

"Good to see you as well, old friend," said the raven, his voice as deep and rolling as thunder, returning the gesture with a bow of his head. His beak moved out of sync with his words, adding to his ominous air. "But again I ask you not to call me by such honorifics. You know my disfavor of them."

One of the younger trolls peeked out from behind her mother, gently pulling on her mossy coat. "Mama, who's th' scary bird Pabbie's talking to?"

The raven fixed a burning eye on the youngster, causing her to retreat behind her mother's back. The corners of his beak curled upwards in a faint smile. "I have many names, child. Some forgotten and lost, and others you've no doubt heard. But there is only one name I call my own. It's..."

A strong wind swept through the valley then. The raven's voice was obscured among the rustle of trees and the whistle of wind through their branches.

There was not a single troll that did not step back or gasp as they recognized the name. Not him! Surely not! He was a legend! A myth! Pabbie invented him for stories to entertain the younglings at night! And even if he did, how could he still be alive? How could any such beings still exist in this world? Yet there was no doubt now that there was more history than fiction to Pabbie's stories.

The trolls fell to their knees in equal parts reverence and fear, heads pressed to the ground as they trembled.

"Rise!" barked the bird sharply, his eyes flashing bright. "Do not prostrate yourselves so willingly! You are not my subjects, nor do you owe me any such respect! On your feet, all of you!"

Hesitantly the trolls rose, confused by the bird's contempt for their manners.

"You'll have to forgive them," said Pabbie. "It's been a very long time since you were last here. Most of them only know you from stories and legends."

"Fairy tales to them, but history to you and I. What's it been now, two—no, three hundred winters since I visited these lands?"

Pabbie smiled nostalgically. "At least. Where have you been all this time? I was starting to think you finally kicked the bucket."

The raven shook his head. "Not dead, but not free either. I've been imprisoned by the power of my race's last folly. This form hardly carries a shadow of my powers, and I will not have them again till I am freed."

Pabbie's eyes widened in alarm. "The trident? It's been found?"

"By the merfolk of Atlantica. It was in their possession long before I was aware of it."

"Was?"

"It has been destroyed."

The strength left the troll's legs for a moment, causing him to stagger back. "Destroyed? But how?"

"How is not important. What is are the circumstances that caused it. A dark and violent evil has emerged in the south. Kingdoms above and below the sea are being razed to ruin as we speak, their people enslaved or fleeing for their lives. If not stopped, they will bring a war that will cover the entire world in darkness."

Pabbie tensed, his stony hand clenching tight. "Elsa…she's the reason you've come, isn't she? You want to use her powers against them?"

The raven nodded. "I would not if there was another way, but we do not have that luxury anymore. She is too valuable a blade to leave sheathed. You know as well as I do what she is, and what she is truly capable of."

Pabbie turned to the trolls. "Leave us."

It was not a request. The trolls hesitantly wandered off, more than a few lingering in hopes of catching a few words. A harsh glance from the raven ended such hopes.

Pabbie waited until he was sure every troll was out of earshot before he turned back to the raven. "Are we alone?"

"A moment." The raven's eyes glowed yellow as the lines on his body swelled with light. The air around them shimmered like water, forming a distorted transparent dome.

"No one will hear us now," said the raven. He was not just referring to the trolls, for there were fouler and darker things out there that did not need ears to listen.

Pabbie crossed his legs and sat, his face turning somber as stone. "Tell me everything."

At the southern end of Arendelle's fjord was a forest of elm, spruce and pine. The majestic trees thrive in Arendelle's fertile summers and chilly winters, creating a dense canopy of green. Moonlight slipped through the branches in fine beams of silver light, and fireflies zipped through the ancient stands like living sparks.

The snapping of twigs and clop of hooves broke the silence of the forest. Three hooded women and a horse walked along a narrow game trail through the woods. Two of them were on foot while the third rode atop the horse, a magnificent black stallion fit for a royalty. None of them looked remotely royal. Their heavy gray cloaks were dirty and ragged from weeks of travel, the hems so torn along the edges that it looked like a pack of dogs had chewed upon them. Their packs were heavily patched and ragged, slack with the dearth of contents.

A passing bush snagged the leader's cloak, pulling it back enough to reveal a tattered sleeveless brown tunic and loose black pants on an athletically slim female frame. A pair of knives was at the small of her back, and a straight-bladed bokken of matte black wood was thrust through her leather belt. Her leather boots were worn and showed obvious signs of repair. Around her neck was wrapped a green and black patterned shemagh. Below it hung a glass marble, a small flame burning inside it. It gave off a faint glow, briefly illuminating the leader's mouth. She quickly stuffed it back under her tunic.

The woman behind her wore a similar gray cloak that was a bit too short. The skirt of her deep maroon dress was in need of repairs, ripped and frayed throughout. Her cloak snagged on the same bush as she walked past, revealing a poorly repaired bodice of the same color over a dirty white blouse. A marble similar to the one the leader wore hung from her neck, but instead of fire it held a drop of sky blue water. The fluid moved with a mind of its own, swirling gently against the rhythm of her steps. Her steps were harsh and tired compared to the silent sure ones of the leader, and her breath was slightly labored from their pace.

It was the woman atop the horse, however, that made this group so noteworthy. Her cloak draped over the rump of the horse like a cape, her blue skirt and black bodice marked by dirt, dust, horsehair, and even flecks of blood. It was too long for her legs, the skirt trailing to below the horse's chest.

But if you were to somehow chance a peek underneath that skirt you would not find legs, but a mermaid's jade green tail.

Several strands of vibrant red hair slipped out from under the rider's hood, standing out against her cloak like threads of fire. She quickly tucked them back, afraid that even in these quiet woods someone could be watching.

"Are we there yet?" asked the trailing woman as she avoided tripping over a root.

The leader sniffed the air. "I can smell ocean. Shouldn't be much further."

"Thank goodness," said the rider, looking forward to a dip.

The leader pushed through a dense patch of brush then abruptly stopped, causing her companions to come to a jarring halt. She signaled to the others for silence, listening to for something the others could not hear.

"What is it?" asked the rider.

The leader drew her bokken and a knife. She began creeping forward, her footsteps as careful as a cat stalking prey. The others watched with bated breath.

The leader came to a wall of young pine branches across their path, forming a barrier of springy stems and green needles. She turned back to her companions. The hood obscured her face, but a pair of luminous golden amber eyes was visible from the shadow it cast.

"Wait here," she whispered before pushing through the coniferous wall. Her friends watched as she disappeared into the thicket. The only traces of her presence were the sounds of rustling branches and snapping wood. Then it went silent.

The seconds stretched themselves out agonizingly. An owl hooted in the distance, its call carrying unnervingly far in the forest. The stallion shifted nervously, ears swiveling around to pick out the faintest of sounds. The rider and her companion were growing increasingly anxious by the second. Every sound made them tense further, tightening already wound nerves like a fretter's pocket watch.

There was the snapping of branches as something came rushing at them through the pine thicket. The woman backed up to the horse, clutching the reins as though it would provide her with some safety. The snapping swelled in volume until suddenly the young trees parted, the familiar hood of the leader popping through.

"Guess what? We're—!"

The leader's boot caught on an exposed root. She gave a startled yelp, arms flailing wildly before falling into the dirt.

Her companion rushed over. "Are you okay, Lara?"

The leader's hood fell back as she rolled over, a beam of moonlight illuminating her face. She was an attractive young woman of twenty-one years with fair features that perfectly accented her oval face. Her waist-length straight hair was a blazing orange color a shade lighter at its core, giving it the look of iron pulled from a furnace. A pair of black goggles sat on top of her head like a hair band, some of it escaping the confines of the band to frame her face. Her golden amber eyes had a faint ring of copper orange near the pupil, a pale scar running over her one. She also had a plethora of piercings on her face. A single black labret pierced her lower lip, and a pair of vertical black barbells pierced each of her eyebrows. Each of her ears bore two small black rings just above the lobe and a set of four inch-long black spikes through the helix. Her beauty seemed as ethereal as it was unpredictably dangerous, like a tiger hunting in the grass.

"Heh heh…oops," said Lara, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment as she got to her feet. "Didn't see the root there."

Her companion pulled back her hood. A young woman with straight black hair pulled back in a low ponytail came into view. Her hair was greasy and dirt spotted her face, but her blue eyes were crystal clear and her soft features lost none of their grace from the lack of bathing. At nineteen years old Princess Melody had turned into a beauty that matched her mother.

"So you can see in the dark, but a tree root can lay you out flat?" she said, one of her eyebrows popped up teasingly.

Lara narrowed her eyes. "Hey, you've tripped half a dozen times in the last hour!"

"All right, that's enough you two," said the rider. She pulled off her own hood, revealing the radiant red hair and enchanting features of Queen Ariel—or rather, Princess Ariel. Not even two months ago she had been on the cusp of thirty-seven. Not that time had done anything to diminish her beauty, but it had still left its marks on her in intangible ways. Now she was square in the middle of sixteen, hardly different from before the events that led her onto land. Her rediscovered youth was no blessing, but a curse she endured at the hands of the one who plotted her home's destruction and the capture of her friends and family.

"Lara, what did you find?"

"Oh, right! Come on!" Lara grabbed Melody's hand and pulled her into the thicket, forcing the princess to cover her face as she was rapidly escorted through stinging bunches of pine needles and the occasional branch.

"Ack! Lara, wait!" shouted Melody as a cluster of needles pricked her face. She could hear the clop—clop of the horse trailing behind. "Slow down! I can't—pffft!—see!"

Lara ignored her and kept going. "Hang on! Just a bit further!"

Melody was about to dig her heels in when they broke out of the thicket. She felt the ground change under her feet, becoming rocky and unstable as water—worn stones slid across each other. She bent over, spitting out pine needles from her mouth and removing more from her hair.

"What—bleugh!—was so important that you had to—ack!—drag me through that?"

"We're here."

Melody looked up. The forest was gone. She was standing on a beach of uncountable smooth stones at the shores of an enormous fjord. The black crystal waters abutted sheer-faced cliffs on one side, while the lights of Arendelle shone against the side of the mountains like a hundred stars fallen to the earth. The castle stood majestic in the moonlight, its proud spires bearing the waving purple and green pennants of the kingdom. The sounds of life were barely a murmur at this distance, but it still audible to the trained ear.

Ariel rode out of the forest to join them, her horse's hooves sinking between the stones as she brought him to a stop.

"Is that it, Mom?" asked Melody as she stared across the fjord to the lit windows of the castle.

Ariel nodded. "That's Arendelle."

"And our ticket north," added Lara. She turned back to the forest, listening for any sign that they had been followed. Hearing and seeing nothing she removed her pack, setting it down on the beach. "Mel, let's set camp."

"We're not going into town?" asked Melody, a little disappointed at the prospect of not sleeping in an actual bed that night.

"Tomorrow morning we will," said Lara as she helped Ariel off the stallion. She carried her to the water's edge and gently set her down. Ariel quickly discarded her dress overhead and dove into the water, disappearing with a quiet splash. She surfaced again moments later, lying on her back. She closed her eyes and sighed, relishing the feeling of the ocean against her skin and scales.

"The fewer people that see us the better for us and everyone else," said Lara as she started untying Ariel's pack from the stallion's saddle. "Tomorrow you and I'll go in. We'll stock up on supplies, get information, and hopefully find a ship going north in the next few days. Then we get as far away from here as we can."

Melody knew Lara was right. They needed to avoid towns and cities as much as possible. If Arendelle knew what was following them, the town would not have let them within a hundred miles of it. They had shaken off their pursuers in Sängril, but there was no telling if or when they could pick up the trail again. Complicating matters further was that they did not know just how far their enemy's influence had spread. For all they knew Arendelle could be crawling with them.

Ariel allowed the waves to beach her, staying low so the surf could still wash over her. "Anything I can do to help?" she asked, arching her head to back at Lara.

"You can—ow!"

Lara jumped as the horse nipped her right in the rump. She spun on her heel, glaring angrily at him as she rubbed her aching behind. "What the hell, Tempest?!"

The stallion snorted at her, gesturing with its snout towards Ariel's pack.

"No. She don't have any more," said Lara. The horse gave her a disbelieving look. "You ate the last of your share this morning, remember? And I emphasize yours! As in the rest are ours! "

Melody reached into her pack and extracted a large red apple. "He can have one of mine."

She set her pack down and walked over to the horse, holding it out for him to take. The stallion reached out to take a bite, but Lara pushed Melody's hand out of the way so all he bit was air.

"Save it for yourself," said Lara as she loosened the saddle's cinch. "We don't need him getting spoiled...or fat."

The stallion shot a look at Lara and swatted her with its tail, the coarse hair stinging her face.

Ariel laughed at the horse's antics. "Oh let him have it, Lara. He did such a good job carrying me today. He was even smoother than usual."

The stallion neighed proudly, enjoying the flattery to its fullest.

Lara was about to say "no" when she saw Ariel's face. She was making that pleading face she could never refuse. Those ocean blue eyes and slightly pouty lip combined with that innocent face upside down were too much even for her steely nerves.

She sighed in defeat. "All right, fine. But just one."

Melody offered out the apple to the stallion again, who delightedly gobbled it down in seconds.

"And if he does get fat I'm blaming you."

The horse snorted at her compliment, then went off to graze on the grass near the trees. Ariel gave a laugh and rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Lara start collecting firewood while Melody set out what they needed for dinner.

"Speaking of not drawing attention, Lara," said Ariel, lazily curling her fins. "Your hair."

"What about my hair?"

"It's lovely and all, but it…well, it stands out. A lot."

"Mom's right, Lara," said Melody as she started cutting up what little bread and cheese they had left. "I'd say the same about your eyes. They're pretty unique. People would remember someone like that."

Lara set her firewood down and walked to the edge of the water. Even in the swells she could see her how distinctive her features were. They were right. There was no way she could go into Arendelle looking like this. Melody could walk into Arendelle the next minute and no one would remember her. But Lara would practically scream for attention just walking down the street. It would be better if she got rid of her facial piercings as well, but if she did that people would definitely remember her.

And at worst, they would try to kill her.

"Looks like a disguise is in order then." She stepped back from the water, rubbing her hands together as she prepared herself for what came next. She closed her eyes, forming the image in her mind and holding it.

"Diffingo."

A brilliant heatless white flame erupted from Lara's scalp, quickly passing over her hair. The fiery oranges turned into earthy browns as it went. Light flashed under her eyelids and she winced, hissing at the sting the spell caused. The fire reached the tips of her hair and went out, leaving a small wisp of smoke as she opened her eyes.

"How's it look?" she asked, stepping back to the water's edge.

"You've never looked more normal," said Melody, intending it as a compliment.

Lara bent over the water, examining her reflection. Her golden eyes had become as earthy brown as her hair, and her piercings were polished steel instead of black night iron. She sighed, missing her natural colors already. There was nothing wrong with brown hair or eyes—it just was not her.

But considering who and what was pursuing them, Lara knew she would have to sacrifice personal tastes for the sake of discretion. They all had sacrificed so much already. Friends and families were left to flee for their lives, or worse, in the monstrous hands of Maelstrom. Their homes were nothing but smoking ruins and bloodstained rubble. All they had now were the clothes they wore, the scant belongings in their packs, and each other's backs. Their only true comfort was knowing some had escaped the slaughter. As for Ariel's now captive family, Maelstrom would keep them alive if only to assure they would return. All hope was riding on this quest into the north. Somewhere in those ancient lands was their one chance to destroy Maelstrom forever.

It was not a matter of if they would make it—they had to make it.

Lara clenched her fists hard, knuckles popping with her strength as the anger inside her burned. She was going to make them pay for every single life they had taken. When this quest was over, and they returned to take Seahaven back, there were only two things she would bring for Maelstrom.

Fire and wrath.

Elsa could not sleep.

She turned onto her back in pursuit of a comfortable position, just as she had done for hours now. Her pillow was damp with nervous sweat. Her legs refused to stay still, demanding her to move every few minutes. Not just her body was restless. Her mind was no less anxious, thoughts running through it with no indication of permitting her serenity. She sat upright, resting her forehead in her palms.

Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow Princess Elsa of Arendelle would cease to exist, and Queen Elsa of Arendelle would take her place. She was about to become a queen. Right in front of all those people, where she could not hide.

Her chest constricted at the thought of all those dignitaries and nobles with their eyes focused solely on her. She would be the center of attention. If she lost control before her entire court, or worse, around Anna…

Before she could stop it a thick layer of frost spread formed over her sheets. Elsa quickly abandoned her bed, nightgown already freezing at the hems as the frost encased her mattress. She backed into the wall, hands slapping the blue wallpaper loudly. Instantly ice spread from her fingertips, crackling and branching over the wall like ink on a page.

Elsa retreated to the middle of the room, trying to bring her panic under control as her magic stormed inside her. It was pushing against her restraint, demanding that she release it. She recited her mantra again and again as she fought to keep the power contained, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

"Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let them know," she whispered to herself. Slowly her breathing came back to normal and the storm within quieted, receding to that unreachable source within her. She kept repeating until she felt it go asleep once more. Slowly she opened her eyes, bracing to survey the damage her most recent outburst had caused.

Her bed was completely frosted over, glinting in the moonlight with a fine layer of ice crystals. The spots where she touched the walls still had ice spreading out, that familiar snowflake fractal growing underneath it. Even her footsteps had left icy tracks over the floor.

Elsa needed air, not just for her nerves but to melt the ice as well. She flung her balcony window open, letting the warm summer air into her frigid room. She looked out over the fjord, forcing herself not to look at the town. It only made her nervous, which made her ice less compliant.

The sight of the fjord did not give her solace either. Ships from kingdoms far and wide had made anchor, creating a flotilla of Arendelle's allies. There was the ship from Corona, carrying the recently married Princess Rapunzel and her husband Eugene Fitzherbert. Next to it was the ship from Weselton, and next to it one from the Southern Isles. She saw no ship bearing the pennant of Seahaven, their furthest ally.

She leaned heavily on the railing, running her fingers through her hair. As of tomorrow she would no longer be just a symbol to these people. She would be their queen, the person they looked to for guidance, justice, and protection.

Her fingers wrapped tight around the metal rail. Elsa, queen of Arendelle? Elsa, protector of the people? What a joke. How could she keep peace in an entire kingdom when she could not even keep peace within herself?

A flicker of light on the farthest southern shore of the fjord caught Elsa's eye. For a moment she thought it was a campfire. But she had never seen a fire burn with such a contained radiance, or such a brilliant shade of white. What could be causing that light?

Crk…rk—crk!

Elsa was prevented from pondering the source of the light when she heard the familiar creaking and cracking of ice forming. She snapped her eyes down to see it crawling over the ironwork like cracks over glass. She yanked her hands away, quickly backing into the recesses of her room. Her heel caught the edge of a rug and tripped her backwards. She gave a startled yelp and threw her hands back, barely managing to catch herself in time. Instantly the rug was frozen solid, turned to a rigid sheet as ice encrased the majority of the balcony rail in a star of frost and ice.

Elsa scooted back to the foot of her bed, hugging her knees in tight as she hid her face. Tomorrow she would be queen. It was unavoidable. But she did not feel like a queen. She felt like a little girl, afraid and without hope in her room like she had been for the last thirteen years. This castle was her prison and her haven. Here she was safe, but more importantly so was everyone else.

And Anna. Especially Anna. Elsa could not bear the thought of hurting her again. She would never be able to forgive herself. If this loneliness was what it took to keep everyone safe, then this was where she would remain. Behind the castle gates, isolated and alone.

So very alone.

Cold tears began leaking from her eyes as she did her best to conceal her quiet sobs of helplessness, the ice bearing silent witness to her despair.

It would seem impossible that a stone could change color on its own. Yet anyone who looked at Pabbie would say the troll was a few shades whiter. His grass trembled and his eyes brimmed with disbelief and horror.

"By my moss! This cannot be true!"

"It is," said the raven gravely.

"But five kingdoms in a single day! It's unheard of!"

"So is this enemy. This is a breed of evil unlike any these lands have seen in history. Family, comrades, love, honor, justice—they've taken genuine pleasure in destroying the lives of those who value such things. Steel, flesh and terror are their weapons of choice, and they have proven their willingness to use them. This is the perfect enemy for a peaceful world."

"This bodes ill for all of us," said Pabbie as he rose. "Elsa has next to no control over her gift. She will not be able to oppose these demons. If they set their sights on Arendelle it will be a slaughter."

The raven flew over to perch on a rock. "There is an even greater danger here. If Elsa were to fall into Maelstrom's hands, or perhaps join them of her own will..."

"Elsa would never join them!" interjected Pabbie loudly. "She may be scared and lacking control, but her heart is good and her intentions noble! Elsa would never turn her back on Arendelle!"

"I do not doubt your faith in the girl," said the raven calmly. "But if she does not come to terms with these powers she may yet become one of their victims—or worse, one of their specimens."

Pabbie rubbed his eyes. This was too much to take in at once. Never did he know of such a foe except in the stories of the Lost Ages. For an organization of such power and heinous intent to rise up in this age was as alarming as it was terrifying. If they got to Arendelle, or to Elsa an Anna—no, he did not want to imagine what they would do to those girls. It was too terrible to imagine.

"What do we do? What can we do?" he asked, more to himself than to the raven.

"Have courage, my friend," said the raven. "There are dark days ahead, but they are not end days. There is still hope for Elsa, as well Arendelle. She is not as alone as she believes."

Pabbie snapped his head up. "What? There is another?"

"No, Elsa is indeed the only of her kind now. But as I said, she is not alone."

The raven spread its wings and took off, ascending straight into the sky. "Three survivors have arrived in Arendelle today! Among them is a pair who belong to two races and none! One of them is the key to Elsa's powers! Depending on how these coming days unfold she will be able to help Elsa, but if not..."

"What? What if she can't help her?" called Pabbie nervously.

The raven began to disintegrate into sparks and smoke, becoming a cloud of black smoke and ash. "Then she may at least be able to destroy her! Pray it does not come to that!"

A/N: So this is my second fanfic. It's crossed over with another fanfic I am writing for "The Little Mermaid." I was planning to finish that before I started this, but after seeing Frozen I couldn't help it! I just had to start writing!

Your comments/thoughts/constructive criticism is appreciated and welcome. Bashing will only be ignored or reported.

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," "Frozen," or any of Disney's characters. Everything else, however, is mine =).