"What happened?" Anna demanded, yielding the task of opening the frozen door to Kristoff before turning back to Isaac and Martin.
The guardsmen looked at each other and then around at their surroundings. The festivities in the ballroom had ground to an awkward halt with the queen's disappearance. It would suffice to say that Anna wasn't the only one in the room awaiting the men's response. Even at the front door, the ushers held their breaths now as they stared at their comrades.
"Well," Martin began, clearing his throat but failing to make his voice any lower than usual. "I... I'm not really sure. Isaac?"
The guardsman gestured to his friend and every guest in the hall followed his movement with their eyes. Isaac gulped, glancing quickly from Martin to Anna and then to the crowd in a repeating cycle.
"Well?" Anna asked, hands on her hips.
"Isaac has trouble explaining things sometimes," Martin cut in.
The princess groaned. "Looks like it's up to you, then."
The crowd's attention was redirected back onto Martin.
"Right," the young guardsman said. His sweating had returned and increased tenfold under the other guests' scrutiny. "I only know what he managed to get out before he locked up," Martin stalled, but he knew that he would have to tell the truth eventually. "Something about a prisoner in the dungeon. William Daleon's wife."
Anna gasped in horror, followed by a similar reaction from the party guests around her. The entire ballroom descended into chatter as the dignitaries speculated as to who the mysterious Mr. Daleon was and what his wife had done to warrant such a response from the princess. Only a limited number of the guests knew the truth as the farmer's death had yet to have been formally reported, but the few members of the Royal Guard scattered throughout the crowd - as well as the two ushers at the entryway - breathed a deep sigh of understanding in unison.
"You told her?" Anna took a step towards the guardsmen and asked quietly, the noisy responses having made her more conscious of her unwanted audience.
"I'm sorry, Princess Anna. I tried," Martin apologized, also adopting a hushed tone that the crowd surrounding him had to struggle to make words out of. "Isaac didn't know that it was a secret-"
His voice was interrupted by a particularly loud collective shout that flowed in from the courtyard. The uproar failed to distract any of the inner party's guests' attention, however, as what was unfolding before them was far too interesting. Everyone figured that the cheap performer on the central stage had pulled off an unusually impressive trick.
Martin sighed. "I should have done more," he decided on for a finish.
"I have to go after her."
"Might be harder than you think. The door won't budge," Kristoff said, giving the handle a few more aggressive attempts before giving up altogether and shoving his hands deep into his pockets to warm them.
At the ballroom's door, the larger usher was the first person in the hall to grow tired of the conversation. Although the other guests remained intrigued by the developing situation, the guardsman considered himself to have heard enough of the queen in the last day. He turned and looked out over the courtyard just as the terrace broke out into another shrieking fit.
"I'll go another way, then," Anna said. She quickly calculated the quickest alternative path in her head. She knew the castle like the back of her hand. After all, for years the exploration of its nooks and crannies had been one of her few forms of entertainment. "There's a side door in the courtyard. It won't take that much longer to get there, I might even be able to-"
"Hey!" the once disinterested usher interrupted her with a shout, instantly darting out of the ballroom and into the courtyard.
The large man's nearby outburst was enough to finally tear the rest of the dignitaries' attention from the princess. Within moments, everyone in attendance was acutely aware of the continuing noise from the courtyard. Those nearest to the archway looked over and quickly took a couple of steps back in surprise. Those further away tried to get a good view of whatever was causing the fuss over their fellow guests' heads. When they saw it, they instinctively started backing away from the entrance, too.
"What's going on?" Anna asked when the other usher also took off out of the ballroom, barking after his partner. She pushed through the crowd (which, for once, didn't shuffle out of her way on account of their shock) until she reached its front, stepping just under the arching doorframe. "What?" she gasped, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding in the plaza.
Darkness had almost fully descended upon the castle's exterior, making it difficult for the princess to fully see the situation. She could, however, tell that the terrace was in complete disarray. The dark forms of commoners in the night moved as one with increased speed, volume, and purpose towards the outer gates, pushing those in front of them hurriedly as they went. But Anna's eyes didn't rest on the amorphous mass of guests for long. Her gaze went to the wooden structure in the center of the courtyard, a place that the fleeing commoners invariably avoided in their paths away from the ballroom. A small ring of space had formed around the makeshift stage - the eye of the storm that threatened the sea of celebrators. And Anna instantly saw why.
Atop the structure, she spied the street magician that she had hired for the festival, however he wasn't alone as he should have been. Another man, a towering, bulky figure whose face and true shape were shielded by both his plain, crimson hooded robe and the night, joined the performer on his stage. The mysterious man stood behind the magician, holding him firmly in place on the edge, a muscular, gloved hand curled around the back of the his neck.
Anna's eyes widened. "What?" she muttered, but no one could hear her as the party inside of the ballroom succumbed to the panic that had already overrun the celebration outside.
"What is that man doing?"
"Oh my!"
"Someone stop him!"
Outside, the fearsome man bellowed over the chaos that coursed below him, waving his free hand in the air for emphasis. "Where are you all going? You don't want to see a few more tricks?"
"Anna!" Kristoff joined the princess just inside the entrance to the ballroom, standing beside her in the opening but unable to look away from the man on the stage. "Who is that guy? He's not entertainment, is he?"
"No," Anna turned to the ice master. Behind him, Martin and Isaac pushed through the crowd alongside a few other guardsmen, leaving the more prestigious guests of the party to cower towards the back of the hall, a few of them even daring to step onto the royal platform, their propriety clouded by the mayhem. "I've never seen him before. How is he-"
The princess paused when she looked back to the courtyard, squinting to make out the new activity on the right side of the terrace. Six members of the Royal Guard, among them the two ushers, emerged from the swirl of commoners and into the deserted area surrounding the stage. They moved in formation - two rows of three - towards the structure, the front guardsman of each row crouched slightly and bearing a long, polished spear.
"Step down!" one of the men shouted as they neared the wooden cylinder, their declaration barely audible over the sheer magnitude of the confused shouts surrounding them. The courtyard was about half cleared by then, however progress had slowed in the evacuation as those outside of the gates who had deemed themselves safe stopped and turned to get a good look at whatever it was that they had run away from.
The stranger atop the stage chuckled. "You're not in the position to be making that order," he spat, his face turning down to look at the group of guardsmen but remaining hidden under the folds of his hood. "I think that you all had better step down yourselves and listen to what I have to say," the man on the platform warned, tightening his grip on the performer's neck to a squealing response.
"Step down!" one of the guardsman repeated as the formation continued its march forward.
"Not much for hostages, are you? Fine," the giant man released the street magician, pushing him to the floor of the stage. The old performer whimpered, relieved to have avoided one danger but all too aware that more most likely lay ahead.
"Step down!" the guardsmen had arrived at their destination and now stood just below the short tower. The leaders pointed their spears up towards the unknown man above them in the darkness, however the pointed tips didn't even reach half way.
"I will not step down!" the man shouted so loudly that everyone in both the courtyard and the ballroom was sure to not only hear him but give him their undivided attention. His words intruded into every guest's ears and thoughts, and even those continuing their panicked flee had to look back and see what the tormentor had planned. Only once there was a stunned relative quiet across the courtyard did he continue.
The stranger seemed to rotate on the stage, his movement unclear due to the darkness and his flowing cloak. He threw his hands up in the air together and with a sharp, cutting sound that hissed from the stage to the gate and into the ballroom a flame erupted out of his sleeves - a sudden flash of maroon light in the center of the terrace. The conflagration lapped at the air above, viciously snapping in each direction and flicking sparks onto the man's shoulders as brownness left its hue and it burnt through lighter reds before reaching a consistent orange.
"No way," Anna and Kristoff whispered in the same moment, still glued to their places under the archway. Beside them, the amassed guardsmen jumped in fright, their fears realized before them. Their comrades under the stage did the same. All of the rest of the guests, commoners and dignitaries alike, resumed shouting and pushing on their way to either the front gate of the courtyard or, in the case of the inner party's guests, the platform at the back of the ballroom even more vigorously, desperately trying to put as much distance between them and the threat as possible.
Everyone recognized what they saw with the ball of fire cradled in the man's raised hands.
It was magic and, unlike the parlor tricks that it had replaced on the stage, it was real.
Elsa made good time to the dungeon, motivated by her own desire to know the truth of the circumstances. There was no doubt in her mind that Anna - and, by extension, the Royal Guard - were hiding something from her and she had pieced together from Isaac's confusing account that it was somehow related to the keep's new prisoner and her late husband. Just what the secret was Elsa didn't attempt to guess, partially because she was afraid of what it may be and partially because she assumed that it would be revealed regardless as soon as she got a chance to talk to Dee Daleon. As Elsa opened the door the dungeon - left unlocked in Isaac's haste to get to the ballroom - she was as impatient as she was apprehensive.
"Hello?" she asked uneasily, entering the slightly damp room beyond. It was pitch black in the dungeon, unlike the servant-managed - albeit remote - hallways which Elsa had just moved through. The queen squinted and barely managed to make out the shape of a lantern on the guard desk in front of her. She only tripped once as she stumbled her way over towards it.
Feeling around cautiously, she was very thankful to find a box of matches also resting on the smooth stone of the table. When she struck the match, the weak light illuminated the dungeon only marginally, flickering and casting strange shadows with the help of the walls' uneven bricks. Still, it was enough to see, and once she had transferred the flame into the lamp, Elsa started forward towards where she knew the cells to be at the back of the enclosure.
"Hello?" she repeated.
"Queen Elsa!" the response came immediately this time, increasing the queen's confidence marginally as she started over to the dungeon's singular functioning cell, holding the lamp far ahead of her to light the way and keep her shaking legs from losing their balance on any of the other dips in the floor.
Upon reaching the entrance, she noticed that it was nearly impossible for her to see inside. The grated entrance blocked the majority of her lantern's light from bleeding into the small room beyond and natural light had retreated from the cell's sole interior window. By the sound of her phlegm-steeped voice, Elsa placed the widow somewhere near the door, however even when she raised the lantern to eye level she could only make out the prisoner's silhouette at best.
"Hello, Mrs. Daleon," the queen said. She shifted uncomfortably and lowered the lamp once more, unsure of how to proceed. She had been so focused on getting to the dungeon as quickly as possible that she had thought little of what to say once she got there. "You wanted to see me?" she offered.
"I... I wasn't sure that you would come," Dee admitted, seeming just as unprepared as the queen. She stepped closer to the cell door and now the two women could hear each other's nervous breaths despite one remaining all but invisible under the cover of darkness.
"Why are you here?"
"What? They didn't tell you?"
Elsa sighed. "They don't tell me a lot of things," she said, her mind too busy to even think about hiding her frustration.
"I see."
There was a momentary silence as both women calculated what to say next. Dee was quicker.
"They caught me trying to get into the ballroom."
Elsa jerked her head back in surprise. "That's it?"
"I was insistent," Dee clarified, her tone deepening and, to Elsa, suddenly quite intimidating. "I attacked one of the guards."
"What?" Elsa asked in disbelief. She sized up the dark shape of the woman once again, her thick features given new meaning by her admission. "I assure you, you weren't missing that much."
Dee chuckled, but the sound was joyless, a formality. "I wasn't looking to dance," she said. Her laughter melted into deadly seriousness again, her lips quivered under the pressure of the words to follow. "I wanted to see you."
"Me?" Elsa gasped. The queen racked her brain for a reason that the farmer would want an audience with her so desperately but came up with nothing.
"Oh, Queen Elsa!" Dee wailed loudly enough for the other woman to wince at the resultant echo. The widow began to cry, only speaking now in between difficult breaths.
"What's wrong? I'm here - it's okay," Elsa tried to calm the woman, although she wasn't entirely sure why she was so upset in the first place.
"I'm sorry, Queen Elsa! I'm so sorry!"
When Dee ignored Elsa's soothing words altogether, the queen felt her body freeze. Something was wrong. She wanted nothing more than to comfort the widow, however the latter's sudden break into hysterics caused worry to rise quickly within the younger woman.
She never even remembered having met Mrs. Daleon, so what could possibly be so upsetting about her presence?
"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," Elsa stammered, pulling herself out of her rapidly processing thoughts. "I'll have the Royal Guard release you as soon as I can-"
"No, no, there was no misunderstanding," Dee huffed. "I'm so sorry. I was so upset after William..."
The widow's words were overpowered by her grief.
Was that what this was all about?
"I should be the one apologizing," Elsa said. "I'm sorry for your loss. I have heard that your husband was one of Arendelle's finest-"
"No, Queen Elsa," Dee said firmly, only her resolve managing to finally pierce through her sobs. "No, I don't blame you anymore. You don't have to apologize. I was mistaken. It wasn't your fault. He was just being William. He was just trying to get us supplies. He-"
"Wait, what did you just say?"
Dee fell silent, confused by the sudden question. "What do you mean?" she sniffled.
Anymore.
In Elsa's head, dozens of different facts clicked together, attaching themselves to the word that still rang through her mind. Anna's secrecy, Dee's insistence, and the little of Isaac's explanation that she had understood all revealed themselves to her anew in one moment, strung together now in a chain of utter clarity. A fleeting sense of satisfaction swept over the queen as she solved the puzzle, however her breath was quick to catch in her throat when she realized the logical conclusion that the realization led her to.
"No," she pleaded quietly, directed at no one in particular. Her grip loosened on the lamp as her whole body jerked in reflection of the turmoil within.
She could see no other explanation. Everything made sense. Sudden, dreadful, important sense.
"How did William Daleon die?" Elsa demanded, unaware of the harshness in her voice and the question itself until long after the words had been said.
Dee's jaw hung open on the other side of the door, unseen emotions exploding across her face behind the impenetrable shade. "You don't know?" she coughed out.
Elsa shook her head, but in truth had already guessed it.
"He was out on a supply run last month," Dee recounted the story that Isaac had told her after he had finally calmed down the night before. "They found his sled flipped over by... The storm."
The lantern clattered to the floor, a rush of air sweeping the modest flame from its cradle within and plunging the hallway around Elsa into a darkness as deep as that of the chamber it guarded.
Far above and unbeknownst to the queen and prisoner, the courtyard continued to drain of people as commoners scurried through the gates. Those so lucky as to have been admitted to the inner party went in the opposite direction, clustering in the back of the ballroom. The atmosphere was thunderous and messy across the breadth of what remained of the celebration, however the chaotic masses were united by two factors: their fear and their inability to look away from the man who towered before them, holding a ball of fire in his bare hands.
In a quick gesture, the cloaked figure flung the flames downward. All of the spectators shrieked even louder and fled even faster than they had before as it barreled towards the party of guardsmen below. The once brave men now yelled out in horror themselves, diving away from their positions and into the swarm moving quickly towards the gates.
Moments later, the ground that they had deserted exploded in a violent array of oranges and reds. A few seconds later, a puddle of smoldering soot marked where the valiant formation had formerly stood.
"Not so insistent now, are you?" the phantom atop the wooden structure bellowed, chuckling dryly as he did. "See? There is no need to be brave! Give into your fears! Run, people of Arendelle! Not even the Royal Guard can stand against my magic!" his voice continued to ring throughout the terrace.
With the absence of his magical flames, the man had once again sentenced the courtyard to near complete darkness. He took a moment to turn and survey his work, finding the courtyard all but clear of the vague shapes of people now. The only ones who remained were a few of the humbled guardsmen standing reluctantly beside the gates, torn betwixt what they knew to be their duty and their greatest terror.
"Good, good," the stranger assessed. Once he had completed his slow spin, the invisible face under the hood looked to the ballroom.
"We need to get out of here," someone inside said, their statement met with universal agreement. The wide opening of the arching entrance made the hall an easy target and, despite their positions in the back corners of the room, all of the guests felt exposed. If the figure before them was as strong as his size indicated, it was quite possible that the next ball of fire could be delivered through the archway even taking the considerable distance into account. The dignitaries would be in danger as long as they stayed in the ballroom, although despite recognition of this fact there was little movement in the crouching, fearful congregation.
The one who was in the most danger, however, was neither crouching nor fearful. Anna stood stubbornly at the front of the room just inside of the archway's huge, open double doors. Kristoff and Martin sulked a few steps behind her on either side, neither sharing the princess's unprecedented bravery but dutifully following all the same. Bringing up the rear of the defiant crew was Isaac, who was presently wishing that he had joined the other present members of the Royal Guard in drifting backwards towards the throne after seeing their fellow guardsmen humiliated a few moments before.
Although her three companions' resolves and gazes wavered under the cloaked man's inspection, Anna still felt the eyes of the people on her back in her sister's absence and willed herself to squint through the returned blackness at the stage with a mix of confusion, disbelief, and undeniable duty.
"Who are you?" she shouted across the terrace, stunning everyone behind her with her courage. The clamor of the guests quieted as they awaited an answer as well.
The princess's demand didn't seem to surprise the figure above nearly as much.
"The princess," he growled, the address barely intelligible considering the roar coursing through it.
Anna took a step forward but was stalled by a firm hand on each of her shoulders.
"Anna," Kristoff warned quietly from her left.
Martin said nothing, but retained his grip on the princess's right side all the same.
"Let go of me," Anna took another step but failed to free herself from the men's clutches.
"With all due respect, Princess Anna," Martin whispered, keeping his voice low as not to be overheard, "you saw what that man just did. You can't go out there."
"I'm not afraid of you!" Anna called out, taking advantage of the fact that she was barred only from moving by the men.
"Anna!" Kristoff scolded.
"Tell me who you are!"
"Who I am?" the cloaked man seemed to think for a moment, raising his stocky arms into the air in such a way that it made those in the back of the ballroom cower anew in expectation of another fiery feat of magic. "I am the Dark Mage of the Western Isles!" he shouted, flourishing his hands in a shower of weak sparks that lit the face under his hood for only a split second.
The stranger's declaration renewed conversation among the party guests huddled in the back of the ballroom, managing to loosen the tension for a motion with additional confusion.
"The Dark Mage of the Western Isles?" a woman scoffed, her voice hushed and layered with uncertainty as she continued. "Surely not. The Dark Mage is a myth."
"A bedtime story," another agreed, though he was equally as worried about being overheard. "I was told his tales when I was but a lad."
Anna remembered reading stories of the Dark Mage, too. Her parents used to forbid her from reading books that included the evil magician but that had naturally only made them all the more alluring to the curious young princess. At one point, the castle library must have had dozens of tomes with mentions of the Dark Mage, although the supply had long depleted with the King and Queen tossing each new book that the youth had discovered.
The Dark Mage was usually found in older children's stories, invariably pitted against the hero of the day in a struggle of good and evil. Each of the legends that Anna had come across when she was younger had been different, giving the mysterious man power over new elements and terrifying minions, however they all ended with the villain's inevitable defeat and demise.
Anna had always thought of the mage as nothing more than a device to be utilized in fantasies - a symbol of evil so simple and innately frightening to make the perfect adversary for the beloved fairytale heroes - so she, too, was skeptical of the man before her and his odd claim.
The Dark Mage of the Western Isles wasn't real. He couldn't be.
"You're telling me that you're a storybook character?" the princess shouted, encouraged by the continuing supporting although quiet criticism coming from the crowd behind her.
Kristoff gave her shoulder a squeeze - a silent and fittingly unheard plea.
The alleged Dark Mage dropped his arms to his sides. Something under his robe shifted - his posture, perhaps - but it was difficult to make out with only the light of the night's rising stars and crescent moon. "You doubt me?" came his booming call.
Without waiting for an answer, the Dark Mage's right hand began to glow. Flares flew from his sleeve, fizzling off into warm ashes before falling to the stage below.
That alone quieted most of the naysayers, but not Anna.
"Who are you really?" she fired back, her insolence causing a few of the more fearful guests to cringe in anticipation of something terrible.
"Anna, I really don't think this guy is messing around," Kristoff said beside her. "Just calm-"
"Putting on a brave face for the others, are you?" the Dark Mage's words crashed through the courtyard and directly into the princess. "You've heard of me before, it seems, and so you should know that I do not tolerate misplaced courage," the flecks of lights began dropping from the man's hand more slowly. "I urge you not to forget my..."
The Dark Mage raised his left hand towards the sky. Like an oversized struck match, a flame erupted from his sleeve, curving upwards and once again hopping into the air before settling on his glove in a dazzling equilibrium of color that made the outstretched arm a beacon in the night.
"Advantage," he finished.
Anna watched the inferno's depths, barely glimpsing something dark within from across the terrace. Her imagination was fueled by the fact that she couldn't discern the oddly colored core. Anna had never been one to be afraid of magic - not as a child reading books of the Dark Mage's exploits nor during the reality of Elsa's winter - but the princess's pulse quickened considerably as she envisioned evil things beneath the flames, poised to attack her at any moment.
"You're not so talkative now," the Dark Mage commented. His lower hand stopped bleeding sparks, now joining its mirror in cradling the ball of fire above his head. His fingers twirled around the mass, nourishing it with motion to ensure continued growth. "I'm glad."
Anna began to shake slightly, her breaths uneven and no longer automatic. She couldn't look away from the inflating flame.
"What do you want?" the princess asked. Her voice was nowhere near as spirited as it had been before, all stubbornness having melted away under the heat of the Dark Mage's newest trick.
"Simple. I want Arendelle to witness the power of magic," the man on the stage howled, his hands and fire continuing to gyrate in tiny circles in the air.
There was a murmur behind her, and Anna again felt the weight of the guests' eyes on her back. Now more than ever, she wished that her sister was around to ease the burden.
"And I intend to provide plenty of exhibits," the Dark Mage chuckled. His fingers stopped dancing and the flame above them dulled slightly in its rigidity, at the very least maintaining a static size and shape now.
With a grunt of effort and another strange, impossible to see shift in posture the man flung the ball to his left. It flew across the courtyard with incredible speed - confirming the phantom's immense strength in the eyes of the observers - before crashing into the western fountain with a deafening snap. The fountain's sky-reaching ice shattered and fizzled under the pressure of the flames as it pierced the abstract shape and proceeded to slam into the terrace brick a few feet away from the frozen pool. Frost exploded above and below the area of impact, clattering to the ground far away from where it had once been, propelled by the incredible force of the Dark Mage's creation. Water dripped from the fountain for the first time in nearly a month.
"Are you afraid yet, princess?" the Dark Mage demanded. A few leftover sparks fell from his right hand as he lowered it.
"Elsa," Anna choked, softly enough so that only the three men around her could hear her. "We need Elsa."
"What was that? I didn't hear you."
"We need Elsa," Anna repeated, but she was still only talking to her companions. She looked over to Kristoff. "We need Elsa. We need to-"
A new flame dropped from the Dark Mage's sleeve into his gloved left hand. It flared as he pulled his arm back and readied to throw. "I want Arendelle to feel the true fear of magic," he said, his fingers twirling again. "And I'll make sure that their precious, stubborn princess feels it first."
"Close the door!" Anna ordered, jumping to the side and beginning to push at one of the carved wooden slabs hinged to the ballroom's entrance. Kristoff and Martin split, the former helping the princess with her task while the latter set to work on the second huge door.
The mysterious man gave a grunt of exertion and sent the flaming mass hurdling towards the archway.
Isaac's eyes went wide, taking in the full view of the rapidly approaching block of magical energy. He gasped and flinched, putting his hands in front of his tear-soaked cheeks for ineffective protection but transfixed by the threat to his wellbeing.
Anna and Kristoff managed to swing their side of the front door closed to much fanfare from the spectators behind them, but it was quickly apparent that their efforts would not mitigate Isaac's danger. The Dark Mage had noticed their movement just before throwing his flame and adjusted its trajectory accordingly, aiming for the other half of the entrance which was closing much more slowly under only Martin's pressure.
After a few moments, Isaac's window of opportunity was gone altogether. There would have been no way for him to dodge the blast even if he had suddenly come to his senses. His eyes poked through small gaps in his fingers and saw the flames just a few feet away, attacking the air with a ferocity that he himself would soon feel. The guardsman screamed - the first sound that he had made since locking up earlier - and shut his eyes tight.
There were three sounds: a satisfying clunk, a horrific, booming crack, and then a sigh of relief.
Martin collapsed, panting, against the now-closed entryway.
"Martin!" Anna was at his side instantly, crouching down and putting a reassuring hand on the guardsman's shoulder. Behind her, Kristoff leaned against the other half of the door, simultaneously resting and making sure that it would stay closed. "Are you alright?"
Martin wiped some sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, but more was quick to replace it. "I'm fine," he said. "Are you alright, Princess Anna?"
"Yeah."
"And Isaac?"
Isaac, a few steps away, opened his eyes again, quite surprised that he could still see. He lowered his arms, similarly shocked to see that they were unharmed, and regarded the closed doors in front of him. He locked eyes with his good friend and gratitude flowed out of his wordlessly. Isaac nodded.
"Good," Martin dabbed at his forehead again but was unable to quell the perspiration. Anna gave him tenuous support as he pushed himself up against the door to a standing position.
"Afraid yet, little princess?" the Dark Mage continued outside. Although Anna couldn't see him through the archway anymore, she felt his presence beyond the sound of his voice alone as the double doors beside her vibrated lightly, pelted by his words.
The princess wasn't sure how to respond, though her silence was a message in and of itself. The crowd in the back of the ballroom started mumbling again, taking Anna's hesitation as a sign that even the most reckless among them had succumb to fear.
"No? Perhaps you'd like another demonstration?" the Dark Mage called. There was tearing noise, barely audible from within the ballroom, as the cloaked man summoned a new fire.
Kristoff and Martin pressed themselves harder against the doors, bracing them for impact. Anna shook her head of uncertainty and joined them, taking her place next to the guardsman on his side of the door this time. Even Isaac stepped forward, putting his hefty weight into the opposite half of the entrance.
"We have to get my sister," Anna croaked, straining to get a solid position against the door.
"Well, yeah, but that door over there is frozen shut," Kristoff panted.
"The fastest alternative route would be through the courtyard, though that is obviously out of the question," Martin recited. He leaned sideways against the door, not letting up any of his pressure but freeing a hand to point towards one of the back corners of the ballroom. A group of five squatted dignitaries stumbled out of the imaginary path of his finger to reveal a modest door behind them. It was the one through which the royal sisters had entered the ballroom through originally and the third and final exit from the hall. "That leads to Queen Elsa's wing. We could all go - it would probably be safer than it is here. After that, one could wrap around to the dungeon through the far hallway. It would take ten minutes, maybe-"
There was a harsh noise and all four of the defenders at the archway redoubled their pressure on the wood in the same moment.
Anna was the first to find it odd that their efforts were unreciprocated.
"Huh?" she mumbled. The doors had not so much as trembled with the sound indicating collision. Beyond that, the crash itself had been comparatively soft, further away and possibly carrying less force than the ones that had come before it.
Another similarly muted crash rang through the door and this time everyone in the ballroom listened closely to get a sense of where it was coming from. If the Dark Mage was no longer besieging the entrance to the hall, where was he directing his flames?
"It's coming from above us," Martin looked up diagonally, lessening his pressure on the wood slightly and consulting his mental map of the castle. "That would be... Queen Elsa's wing."
The guardsman's realization was punctuated by a third noise from overhead. It was different from the other two, not a dull thump but rather something else entirely: the sound of glass shattering as a ball of fire sailed through the latticed window of the queen's quarters.