AN: Sorry this is late, I just started classes so that is taking up a lot of time. There won't be a new chapter this Monday, but hopefully next Monday. Thank you to everyone who reviews your words make my day. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter.


She landed hard on her back; the air leaving her lungs in a painful rush. Crumbing stone and broken wood rained down around her as, stunned and disorientated, Elsa curled into herself on instinct, throwing her arms up to protect her head from the larger pieces. A chunk of rock glanced off her left side, and a sharp pain ignited with the impact. She choked on a cry, curling her body even tighter. She remained still, breathing harshly through clenched teeth, as the debris settled around her, until there was nothing left to fall but dust and drops of chilly rain.

There was a concerning delay before her mind caught on that she was no longer inside the Keep. She hazily realized there must be a courtyard on the other side of the wall Tyr had taken out. She slowly uncurled herself, hissing as her tense muscles protested the movement, as hot pain spiked in her side. She propped herself up on an elbow and gingerly probed the spot. It was tender to the touch, and when she attempted to pull in a deep breath, an ache from deep inside had her biting down on her lip.

Elsa cursed, breathing shallowly as she pressed her hands against the wet stone and pushed herself upright. She knew she had to push through the pain and move, had to get to her feet before Tyr decided to join her in the courtyard. He might have dealt a solid blow, but she doubted the man was going to just leave her here and call it a day. He had proven himself to be a single-minded brute, with a vendetta against her she didn't quite understand. With one cuff still actively repressing and draining away her magic, Elsa didn't know how much she could do against another attack, and decided that getting some distance between them was going to be her best defense. Even if the man wasn't three times her size, she had no experience with any sort of real fighting and knew she would not survive in close quarters.

Elsa had barely managed to push up onto wobbly legs before she felt more than heard Tyr land a short distance away. She gasped and stumbled backwards, pain spiking again in her ribcage as she struggled to put space between them. She was dimly aware of the ice that cracked outward with each step against the debris-covered ground.

"So," Tyr drawled, lazily swinging a long-handled, wicked looking axe in one hand as he matched her step for step, "this is the power of the ice witch."

Elsa's fingers tensed at her sides, and spots danced in her vision as she continued to pull in fast, shallow breaths, in deference to the persistent ache in her side.

"I have to admit," Tyr continued, clearly savoring the moment, the fact he had her backed into a corner, "that when I first saw you on the battlefield, I was impressed, even jealous of the power you possessed. But now—" he inched closer, gaze dark and intense, like a predator toying with his prey before going in for the kill. "—now I see you for what you really are. What I always suspected."

The coarse stone outer wall of the Keep was suddenly at Elsa's back. Her head spun, and she forced herself to take deeper breaths, pushing through the pain so she could think clearly. "And what's that?" she asked, aiming to stall him as long as she could, though she didn't know what good it would do in the end. In the distance, she could still hear the muted boom of cannon fire. Somewhere, there were others in the Keep, foe to the Vindarr. She just didn't know what that meant for her.

"A spoiled child," Tyr spat, "who was given a gift you will never appreciate, and will never deserve." With his last word, he gripped the axe handle and sprung forward.

Elsa startled at the sudden attack, barely keeping her feet under her. She stomped against the broken stone beneath her, pushing her magic down through her feet into the ground. As Tyr drew closer, she twisted her hand and a dull, icy pillar rose from the debris, slamming into his rib cage and knocking him off balance. But Tyr was an experienced fighter, and he quickly regained his feet, moving again to close the distance between them.

Elsa's free hand tingled, but she hadn't realized she had created a weapon of her own until she caught the savage swing of Tyr's axe with an icy sword. The impact sent pain reverberating through both arms, causing her joints to ache. A crack appeared in the sword as Tyr used the advantage of his height and weight to press down. Elsa bit her lip until she tasted blood. An idea formed in her mind, but she knew immediately that she had only a slightly better chance at surviving what she was thinking than her current predicament.

Elsa released the sword with one hand and splayed her fingers wide, releasing a blast of icy, artic wind that echoed through the courtyard. Tyr was in the motion of bringing the axe down when he got caught in the blast and flew back, but not before the sharp blade skimmed across Elsa's shoulder, cutting a shallow but painful path through her flesh. Tyr crashed into the frozen pillar still standing behind him, and he crumpled to the ground hard on his side.

Elsa clenched her teeth, gripping the bleeding wound in her shoulder with an icy hand.

Tyr was already pushing back to his feet. There was a wide gash along his temple, and the shoulder of his shirt was torn. From across the courtyard, Elsa could see that the skin underneath was blistered red from where her magic had hit.

He inspected the spot for himself, then growled. "If you give up now, I will make your death quick, and mostly painless."

She didn't bother with an answer, not feeling the need to further irritate her sore throat on someone who merely liked the sound of his own voice. Instead, she mutely dropped her hand from her shoulder and squared her stance. This was a battle she might not win, but she would not go down without a fight.

Tyr returned her silence with a humorless smile, reaching a hand toward the surrounding rubble. "Nice and slow it is, then."

The stones flew across the courtyard, and Elsa reacted quickly. Ice and rock met in the middle, exploding once more against each other as Arendelle's Queen clashed with the Sirma leader, meeting each other blow for blow.

Then Tyr unexpectedly changed tactics, rushing toward her with a sudden explosion of speed. Elsa was once more caught off-guard, surprised how fast a man of his size could move. Her instincts screamed at her to move too, but she swallowed and stood her ground, waiting until the last possible moment to bring an ice wall up from the ground. Tyr crashed into it, shattering the wall, sending a dozen tiny iced spikes cutting through his clothing and skin.

Elsa tensed, preparing her sore body to jump back, but the man had expected the movement. She heard it as a stone tore free of the earth behind her and turned just in time to bring her arms up to block the attack. A large chunk of rock slammed through her protective barrier of ice and struck her forearm, hard, between her elbow and the cuff. There was a sickening crunch, an eruption of pain. She cried out, tucking her hurt arm close to her chest.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

She tried to flex her fingers of her injured arm but found she couldn't move them and trying only increased the pain to nauseating levels. Her right arm was clearly broken, and the activate cuff still hampered the left. Elsa's chest tightened as she realized the use of her magic had just been severely limited. Her mind raced for some solution, some way out of this mess, but her concentration was split between the agony radiating along her arm and through her abused body, and the man in front of her.

She had stood still too long. A rock slammed into her abdomen, doubling her over, followed by another connecting with her chin. Elsa's jaw snapped shut with a painful click as it knocked her to the ground in a painful mess of limbs. She struggled to roll to her side, to get her one working hand under her and regain her feet, but a boot caught her in the ribs, forcing her to remain on her back. She wheezed, blinking back the spots crowding her vision, trying to recapture her breath. Grinning maniacally, Tyr pressed his boot against her cracked ribs, placing just enough pressure to create a pain she'd never felt.

Elsa gasped shallowly, struggling to continue to draw air around the increasing pressure. She could not afford to lose consciousness now; it would surely cost her life. She shakily reached up with her left hand and wrapped her fingers around Tyr's boot, but didn't have the strength left to dislodge him.

He knew it, too. His grin widened. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

"Go to hell," she forced through clenched teeth.

Tyr leaned his weight forward, and Elsa's head snapped back against the stone, her heels scraping across the wet stone.

"I wonder," he said, in a low, menacing tone, "how much pain can you handle? It's clear you aren't human, but you bleed like us." He slowly increased pressure, and her ribs bent bit by bit.

Elsa tried to scream, but the sound lodged in her throat. She scrambled to grasp for her magic, but couldn't reach it, blocked by the pain in her right arm and the cuff on her left. She tried pushing against the pain, the wall that blocked her magic, but the cuff only glowed brighter.

"You must think you're so special," Tyr continued "But where is your magic now? Your power? It looks to me like you're weak." He pressed harder still. "Seems like you're not better than the rest of us, after all."

There was a nauseating snap as her ribs finally gave under the pressure. Elsa's eyes blew wide, her body seizing under his boot. Through the deafening roar in her ears, she heard a soft crack of glass as an artic blast of ice and snow ripped through the courtyard.


Alarik dragged a hand down his face, wiping away a palmful of sweat and blood that he was fairly certain wasn't his as he blew out a harsh breath. He had known going in that this was going to be a hard fight, a brutal one. Arendelle had the advantage of numbers, but the Vindarr had magic on their side, and that was something they had no experience in fighting. The Sirma had been surprisingly helpful, willing to show the Arendelle soldiers how they dealt with the magic, with various runes etched into their blades and shields to help defuse the elements. That had been a completely unexpected, but welcome bit of information.

As soon as the Admiral found out about the weapons, there was an exchange of equipment between Sirma and Arendelle. They gave the soldiers who would run decoy normal weapons, as they weren't expected to engage in close combat. Those on the Dagny and the Squall were given the carved, runic weapons. They had another minor advantage going into battle—it was raining, hard. The downpour was making it difficult for the fire mages to summon their attack magic, something Alarik was eternally grateful for.

Alarik led his men into the Keep with the mission to find Markkus and detain him. It had been agreed upon that the man was to be kept alive for questioning, so that they could understand exactly what it was he had done to the Queen to convince her she wanted to stay in Hasvik.

They didn't get far before facing the first set of guards. The fight was quick, Alarik's men overwhelming the Vindarr with ease. It wasn't until they made it to the next floor up that they encountered the first bit of real resistance, the first mages. Then things got messy. The hallways of the Keep were wide, but not meant to contain a battle. The confined space left them easy targets for the mages. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

Forced to take cover around the corner, the Arendelle soldiers shot arrows at any opening. Frustrated, Alarik signaled to a few of his men to break off and see if they could find a way around to take the Vindarr from the other side. It took longer than he wanted, and he lost two men, but his group eventually flanked the Vindarr, and the runic shields from the Sirma allowed them to get close enough to take a few men out.

Alarik slammed his own shield into the torso of a mage baring a blue crystal, knocking him to the ground. He was bringing his sword down to deliver the fatal blow when a burst of wind slammed into him from the side. It threw him off-balance and into the wall, the side of his head cracking against the unyielding stone. Dazed, Alarik struggled to gather his wits and regain his feet, but he lost track of the fight. It was for just a moment, but it was long enough.

Before he could recover, a gush of water hit him, knocking him to the ground and carrying him down the hall. He spluttered and choked, reaching blindly for anything to grab hold of until he finally crashed into a crumbling wall. The water pinned him in place as it continued to push against him, threatening to drown him. Just when he was sure his lungs would burst, the water stilled, then receded. Alarik rolled onto his side, coughing up water and trying to catch his breath. Down the hall, he blearily noted the water mage who had attacked him lying dead at the feet of a Sirma soldier.

Tucking his hands under him, he pushed himself back to his feet. He grabbed his shield and sword from where they had landed on the ground, and as rejoined the fray.

He motioned to some of his men to follow him along a narrow passageway that ended in a stone stairwell. Behind them, the battle waged on, shouts and crashes and curses as the Arendelle and Sirma soldiers continued to fight, and distract the powerful Vindarr mages. Alarik clenched his jaw as he led the way up the stairs, trying not to think of those who would be lost. He had his orders—find Markkus. Without warning, a stone underfoot cracked, then the floor dropped out from beneath him entirely.

It was a brief fall to the level below, where he landed heavily on his shoulder and left side. Sore and winded, Alarik cursed under his breath, rotating his shoulder experimentally. He winced as the joint pulled painfully; there would be massive bruising there come morning, as well as all along his left side. Assuming he lived that long, of course. He looked around the area, hoping to spot anything that looked vaguely familiar from his brief tour of the place. But everything looked the same, every hallway resembling the last.

He took a steadying breath. There was nothing left to do but move forward and hope he met up with another group, if not his own men.


Anna's entire body thrummed with tension; her muscles tight. During the trip to the Keep she'd had to fight not pace around the ship to work out some of her nerves, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. She kept expecting someone to spot her, to give her away to the Admiral, or to Jogeir, though she knew she disguised herself well enough in the clothing of an Arendelle soldier to blend in with the actual soldiers now prowling the area.

A large, warm hand gripped her wrist, and for a moment Anna thought they had caught her. But when she turned, it was Kristoff standing at her side. He offered a small, reassuring smile, and Anna nodded sharply. As soon as the soldiers were all away, she, Kristoff, and Rune would make their way toward the Keep. Toward Elsa.

The moment the soldiers moved further into the Keep, swallowed by the darkness of the hallways, Anna took off in the opposite direction, slowing only long enough for Kristoff and Rune to catch up. She looked down at the large snow leopard. "Okay Rune," she said in a hushed voice, "do you think you can lead us to Elsa?"

The leopard tilted her head, then turned toward the dim hallways. Her ears twitched as she started down the corridor at a steady pace. They walked for a while, not speaking, until the silence grew to a painful pounding against Anna's ears. She looked at Kristoff from the corner of her eye and whispered, "thank you for coming."

He shrugged it off, like it wasn't even worth mentioning. "Aside from you, Elsa is the most kind and caring person I know. But," he added, "she still terrifies me."

Anna rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. "Elsa is not scary," she retorted. "And I am pretty sure you'd hurt her feelings if you told her she was."

Kristoff narrowed his gaze. "She's your older sister, and the Queen, and has ice powers. I'm not honestly sure which of those things is scarier on its own. You mix all three together?" He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll just stay on her good side, thanks."

They continued to creep along the dim hallway behind Rune. Anna swallowed, knowing that while Kristoff had volunteered to join her, he was still here because of her. "Even if it means following her crazy, stubborn little sister into a dangerous battle?" she asked.

"Eh, it keeps life interesting."

Anna's chest loosened a bit, Kristoff's teasing helping to ease some tension. They walked in silence for a while longer, following Rune through twists and turns through the lower levels of the Keep. The snow leopard seemed sure of their path, and Anna fervently hoped she was leading them in the right direction. Above them were muted sounds of battle, sounds Anna wished she had no point of reference for, but now did.


The pressure on her side was suddenly gone, but at the moment, her entire existence was pain. Elsa couldn't even be sure she was still breathing, as her ribcage was alight with agony. Her broken arm ached fiercely, her face throbbed, and the cuts along her shoulder burned. Vision tunneling to a pinpoint of light, she moved on instinct, raising a trembling left arm to erect a protective ice wall in front of her, a barrier between her and Tyr.

She scooted back from the ice wall, her breath rattling painfully in her chest. When she could move no further, she curled around her broken ribs, unable to stop shaking, trying to catch her breath, but every inhale was pure agony. She sank down onto her side; her broken arm tucked against her chest and good arm wrapped around her middle. She rested her forehead against the cracked, ice-covered stone and attempted to just breathe.

She knew she didn't have much time; Tyr would break through the wall and continue his assault until one or both of them were dead. Elsa thought of her sister, how desperate Anna had been to convince her to return to Arendelle. She felt so stupid now for not listening to her. Even if Markkus had been on the level, she should have returned home with Anna when she had the chance. An entire kingdom was looking to her for guidance, and she couldn't let them down. She couldn't let her sister down.

Elsa shifted, her knuckles scraping against the rough stone as she wedged a hand under her. Anna had already lost enough, sacrificed enough. She wouldn't let her sister face a future alone, wouldn't drop the responsibility of ruling on Anna's shoulders, and that meant that Elsa was going to have to survive this fight.

She dragged in shallow breaths between clenched teeth as she dragged herself up, first to her knees, where she paused and tried to catch her breath, then to her unsteady feet. The world tilted and pitched as her body flared with pain. At least, between the pain and adrenaline, whatever sedative they'd given her was long out of her system.

Through the patter of rain, distant sounds of battle, and not-so-distant cannon fire, Elsa could hear faint movement on the other side of the ice wall. She pressed a palm against the ice, reinforcing it, and then she steeled herself, and waited.

At the first collision of earth against ice, she used the sound of the impact to judge Tyr's location, then forced her magic down through her left hand and into the wall. The ice shattered into hundreds of jagged pieces that raced through the air, all aimed for the Sirma leader.

Stone was hastily ripped from the ground in a desperate counterattack, and rock and ice collided, exploding on impact, causing debris to fly in all directions. Elsa ducked her head to protect her face as fragments left shallow cuts and scrapes across her clothes and exposed skin.

Once everything had settled, she raised her head, turned her gaze across the courtyard to where Tyr stood. He was hunched over, a hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder, a sizeable chunk of ice protruding from the muscle. Another, smaller piece lodged in his thigh.

Elsa's lip twitched in satisfaction. Not wanting to give him an opening to attack, she moved quickly, bringing her foot down onto the wet stone and sending a trail of ice across the space between them. Spikes exploded upwards as the ice reached Tyr, and the man barely moved out of the way. He stumbled backwards, no longer as sure on his feet as he had been only moments ago. He lifted his axe, and Elsa watched in surprise as he brought the blade down against the chunk of ice lodged in his shoulder, snapping it in half. With a snarl, he ripped free the shard in his thigh.

"So, the bitch has claws," he seethed, gaze narrowed. With his good hand, he swung his axe, the same cocky look resting on his face. "Impressive, but you made a huge mistake."

Elsa rolled her lips against her teeth, knowing he was baiting her. "And what is that?" she asked anyway.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance." With that, he launched a rapid succession of stones at her, stepping forward with each one and forcing her to scramble to block them.

Elsa was driven farther back as she worked to keep some distance between them, fighting to maintain her concentration. Allowing him to get too close could be the end of her.

Her hip hit the low wall at the edge of the courtyard, and without looking she knew what lay beyond was a steep drop to the ocean below. She attempted to slide along the wall toward the east side to avoid being cornered, but an enormous stone wall shot up from the ground and blocked her path. She stumbled back, and before she had a chance to recover, something struck her hard and fast from the other direction, snapping her head to the side. Elsa staggered, catching herself on the stone wall, blinking back stars as her mouth welled with blood.

A hand wrapped around her throat and she was jerked forward. When her vision focused, her face was so close to Tyr's, she could smell the blood on his breath. Elsa clawed at his hand, trying to dislodge his grip, and frost crawled across his arm. He turned and threw her like a rag doll. She landed in the middle of the courtyard, striking the ground with a jarring impact that echoed through her entire body and sent stars sparking across her tunneling vision.

"Tell me, witch," Tyr spat as he stalked toward her, "when you froze your kingdom, did it make you feel strong? Powerful? Knowing so many people would live or die depending on your whim."

Elsa pushed herself to her knees, puffing out as deep a breath as she could. She didn't try to stand, blinking back spots as she glared at Tyr. "That was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Do you think that makes it better?" Tyr tilted his head as he circled her. "Like a child, playing with powers you can never understand. But I—I understand the power, the responsibility, and still I was denied magic by the spirits."

Elsa frowned as she rotated her head, trying to keep the man in her sights. "Is that what this is about? You're mad the Landvættir wouldn't give you magic? Seems pretty childish to me." The fingers of her left hand dug into her thigh as the world spun dizzyingly around her.

Tyr glared at her, then his boot slammed squarely into Elsa's chest and knocked her to the ground.

She felt it as something tear inside, and her back arched off the ground as she choked. She reached for her magic, trying to defend herself from further attack, but it slipped beyond her grasp. She was too tired, too drained. She had nothing left to give. She attempted to roll onto her side, but a kick to her stomach forced her onto her back. If she had anything left in her, she would have vomited. Instead, she could only gag, squeezing her eyes shut as hot tears leaked out.

"All that power at your fingertips, and you can't even save yourself." Tyr brought his foot down once more, this time onto her broken arm. "How does it feel to be at someone else's mercy? To know your life hangs on their whim?" He ground his heel against the broken bones, and Elsa could only manage a hoarse cry in response.

"It's a shame I can't take your magic like the Landvættir's. So much power, wasted. At least I can still do the world a favor in ridding it of your existence." Tyr lifted his chin. "Well, witch," he said, his tone eerily casual, "this has been fun. But I think it's time for the game to end." He lifted his axe in the air.

Anna, I'm sorry. Elsa squeezed her eyes shut as the blade swung toward her. Instead of the expected burst of pain, she heard a fierce roar. Suddenly, the weight was gone from her arm, and a pained holler filled the air.

Elsa dragged her eyes open to see Rune, her teeth latched onto Tyr's arm as she dragged him back.

Elsa rolled onto her side, digging deep to find the energy to lift herself to her feet once more. Tyr growled as he struggled with the snow leopard. He summoned a chunk from the earth and slammed Rune against it. The large cat was knocked from his arm, and another large stone threw her back into a pile of rubble.

"Rune!" Elsa limped forward but stopped. She could feel it, that Rune would be okay. The wind had just been knocked out of her.

Tyr turned toward Elsa with hate burning in his eyes, his arm dripping with blood. Elsa turned toward him, summoning her last bit of strength as he twisted his hands in the air. She heard the stone behind her shifting as she sent an artic blast of ice at him. The blast hit him directly in the chest, as a piercing, fiery pain exploded in her side. The fresh agony lasted only a moment before it was quickly lost among the pain of her numerous injuries.

The noise of the distant battle, the feel of rain hitting her skin, all dissolved, everything falling away until there was nothing left but the two of them, caught in one final moment. Both Elsa and Tyr stood still, and for what seemed an eternity, nothing happened. Then, vaguely, she heard a crackle of ice.

Tendrils of frost raced outward from the center of Tyr's chest, where her blast had landed, snapping and cracking violently. Eyes blown wide, he stumbled back, his hand flying to his chest as if he could stop the spread with touch alone.

His panicked gaze locked onto Elsa's, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, couldn't help but wonder if Anna had worn the same panicked look in her eyes as she too froze to death. As the magic turned her blood to ice. Tyr's face twisted with pain, and in a last desperate attempt he stretched his hands toward Elsa, the wall behind her trembling violently as he attempted to bring it down on her, on them. She watched passively, too tired, too hurt, to do anything but duck her head and curl into a ball as the wall came tumbling down.

The noise was deafening, filling her ears and rattling her bones. Just before the rocks could crush her, the rain shifted, blowing with a hurricane force and colliding with the falling rubble, knocking the stones away from her. Elsa curled tighter as the wind whipped around her, pulling at her hair and clothes. When the rain and dust finally settled, she was surprised to find herself still alive. She dragged her head up, and her breath caught painfully as she spotted Tyr only a few feet away. The man was frozen solid, with chunks missing from his arms and torso where the falling rocks had struck. The gruesome sight turned her stomach, but she only had enough energy left to list to the side, struggling to keep breathing.

The rock to her right shifted as Rune pulled herself from the rubble. The leopard shook the dust from her icy fur and padded over to Elsa. A low whine rumbled in the cat's throat as she nosed Elsa's left side.

A shock of pain ripped through her. Elsa gasped, looking down to find a dark stain spreading across her rain-soaked clothing. It was blood; it was rapidly spreading across her tunic and leggings, from a deep cut that stretched around her back and reached halfway to her naval. She swallowed with difficulty, knowing the injury was serious, that it should worry her. Her head buzzed uncomfortably, and she couldn't seem to find the energy to care, to move. She just wanted to sleep and started listing to the side. Laying down sounded like a very attractive idea.

Her eyes had drifted shut when Rune nudged her again, another low whine rumbling through the cat. Elsa frowned and dragged her eyes open, found herself face to face with the same blue light that had haunted her dream. Her brow scrunched in confusion. She leaned heavily against her ice cat and stared at the spirit. Not speaking, not thinking. She just wanted to sleep.

The spirit frantically bounced up and down.

"I don't. . . I don't know what you want," she said breathlessly. "I can't . . ." She lost steam quickly, the world fading in and out of focus. She wanted to sink down toward the comforting grey, but the spirit wouldn't let her, making a sound like a high-pitched scream. Elsa jerked her head back, her eyes filling with hot tears. "I can't help you," she said desperately. She couldn't even help herself now.

Rune joined in, grasping Elsa's wrist gently in her mouth and tugging, urging her to get up.

"I can't . . ." But they wouldn't give up. She choked on a sob. "I don't . . ."

The spirit bobbed once more, coming closer.

A vision filled her mind. This time, Elsa could hear the water spirit speaking to her, a lost language echoing through her mind. She didn't recognize the words, but somehow still understood their meaning.

The spirit wanted her to break the Vindarr's crystals, wanted her to set the Landvættir free.

Elsa shook her head. "I can't," she insisted breathlessly. "I don't know how."

Your soldiers are here. They have come for you. They will be killed without your help.

It took far longer than it should for her to process the words. When she did, Elsa frowned. Arendelle's navy—that's who was attacking the Vindarr. A sob tore from her abused throat as she dug the fingers of her good hand into Rune's fur, using the leopard as leverage to pull herself to her wobbly feet. She didn't know why Arendelle was attacking, but she knew she couldn't leave them to their fates, she couldn't let the Vindarr hurt her people any more than she could allow them to continue abusing the spirits for their own gain. One last thing she had to do, then she could sleep.

Elsa made it to her feet, agony she had never experienced ripping through her. The pain almost drove her back to the ground; it was only with the help of the spirit and Rune that she managed to stay on her feet. "What . . . do . . . I do?"

The answer rattled through her head. She needed to move closer to the battle, to the Vindarr mages, so she could get everyone with one shot. She leaned heavily against Rune as they made their way into the Keep. Once inside, she leaned against the wall, her bloody hand leaving trails across the stonework as she used it for support. She didn't know how long she trudged on: seconds, minutes, or hours. She couldn't think clearly with the pain thrumming through her, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other. Just when she thought she was going to pass out, the spirit bounced in front of her. She was close enough. Here would work.

Elsa closed her eyes, concentrating on her connection with the tiny spirit. She felt her mind slip away, following current of magic in the air. Suddenly, she could hear the other spirits, the trapped ones. She could feel their pain. It was overwhelming. Her magic built rapidly along her veins, pooling in her chest before finally exploding in a massive artic detonation.

The noise stopped, the spirits quiet and the connection lost. Elsa dragged her eyes open and blinked sluggishly, watching with muted disinterest as the world tipped onto its side and the floor rushed up to meet her.