The ice -spikes were getting longer.
Control it.
Conceal.
Don't. FEEL.
The spikes kept growing.
'Get a grip, Elsa', she told herself. 'You must do this. You are the Queen of Arendelle!'
Arendelle.
Frozen.
People.
Unprepared.
Frozen.
Dead.
Her fault.
She screamed.
The spikes grew.
The room seemed smaller.
She needed to get out. Now. She tried the door.
Frozen shut.
She tried to blast it with her powers.
Nothing.
She ran at it.
Nothing.
Trapped.
She screamed.
The spikes grew.
She pressed herself against the door, willing the ice to melt, begging it to melt.
Nothing.
She turned.
The walls. The spikes.
She tried to call to her magic. It burst out of her, whirling, thickening the walls, driving the spikes closer.
No. Control it. CONTROL IT!
Nothing.
Spikes. So close now.
Anna.
Anna.
Frozen.
My fault.
Anna.
Dead.
Anna.
Anna.
Anna.
Spikes.
Anna.
Elsa cried out for her sister as her own ice killed her.