Frozen Fire

Chapter Ten: Kingdom of Ice

xXx

For the first time in what felt like years, Sam took her first shaking steps from an encasement of ice and stone and fear.

Her booted feet crunched onto snowy earth. She had to nestle deep within the warm bulk of her coat as a bitter wind ripped through her clothes like wildfire. Inhaling a breath of the crisp, cold air, she savored the freshness of it.

She'd never realized how sickly and green her own world was until she stepped into another that was anything but.

A sky bluer than any Sam had seen before greeted her as she exited the castle behind Frostbite. She nearly stumbled under the blinding rays of sunlight, brightened further by the sparkling dunes of white snow that sprawled in every direction. It was a complete shock to her system, after living the last few years of her life in near darkness, that she was left squinting through watery eyes as she walked, her hand a shield at her brow.

However, even with the sun's intense glow and subsequent tears pooling in her eyes, she would need to be blind to miss the pair of giant celestial moons hovering overhead like planets.

Sam stopped in her tracks to gape at them. She marveled at their periwinkle and lavender coloring, at the faint way in which they glowed in the sunlit sky. They weren't fully visible, mere shadows of shape and color that loomed above, but they still left her utterly spellbound. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to see them at night.

Her eyes flicked lower then, to Frostbite, whose fur and icy features gleamed in the sunshine. He stood patiently, waiting for her at what she realized was a staircase that led down beyond where she could see. Not from where she stood, at least. Her hand still shading her eyes, she walked until she stood beside him.

"Wow," she breathed in awe.

"Indeed," Frostbite agreed, a grin in his voice. "The capital of the Far Frozen is a remarkable place, is it not?"

Sam could only blink.

Where the staircase ended, pathways carved from snow and ice curved onwards, weaving throughout a frozen kingdom fringed by large, swooping mountains. Buildings rose from the ground in twining spires, each one its own unique work of art. The ice itself was varied. In some areas, it was as transparent as glass, and others, it was opaque and nearly as blue as the sky.

The hulking forms of yeti milled about, too, she noticed. She could see them on the pathways, at the entrances of buildings, and even at the small carts in what looked like a market within a large open area at the base of the castle stairs. A few of them had already taken notice of them, a small crowd beginning to form near one of the booths.

Sam swallowed.

Frostbite noticed where her eyes lingered and must have read the worry on her face, because he said, "All will be well, Sam." He gestured toward the growing crowd with a clawed hand. "Come."

She followed him down the stairs, trying not to stumble on steps that were awkward in length. It was an effort to ignore the gnawing of her nerves.

And with good reason, too, she quickly realized. Because the moment her feet landed on the snowy path, angry voices lanced at her from every direction.

"So it's true," she heard one of them hiss, "there is a human here."

"I thought it was all a rumor," another said.

"Hide the cubs!" a female gasped frantically.

"What a shame!"

"Disgrace."

"Perhaps the Writings were true?"

"What a small wisp of a creature."

"This is abhorrent!"

The word "human," hissed between many sets of sharp, gnashed teeth, was an echo trailing in her wake as she walked. Her shoulders rose, her fingernails biting into the palms of her clenched fists. She kept her gaze forward, on Frostbite's back, dutifully following him through the swell of the wary crowd.

He, too, ignored the hazing of the other beasts.

But Sam felt them as they moved in on her. As more and more of the yeti took notice of her. Large imposing figures began walling her in, filling the void that was left behind her after she and Frostbite parted them, great shadows eclipsing that beautiful sunlight that she'd been so excited to see.

Her palms itched. One foot after another, she began repeating a familiar mantra, over and over.

One, two. Three, Four. One, two. Three, four. One, two. Three—

Sam tried her best to ignore them, their whispers, and keep her eyes trained forward. But then a strange sight at the edge of her vision caught her attention. She couldn't stop herself from gawking when she noticed a small form clutched to a leg of one of the females. A child, she realized with a start, peeked shyly at her, its small face buried in its mother's fur. It smiled at her.

The mother yeti noticed the direction of Sam's eyes on her grinning child and began to growl. The surrounding males converged then, concealing the child from Sam's view, their fangs bared and eyes narrowed with mistrust.

Another yeti, a male, stepped into her line of sight. It was slight enough that Frostbite hadn't seemed to notice. "Human wretch," he hissed at her.

Sam gave the beast a glare as she passed him. Fortunately, the male made no move forward, though the deep rumble of his growl trailed after her for some time.

And while many of the yeti were watching her, sure, many more seemed to be looking to Frostbite, their king.

"Frostbite, my liege!"

"It is good to see you, my king."

"Quite the frosty morning, Frostbite. It is most pleasant!"

Frostbite, to her surprise, responded to every greeting, acknowledged every utterance of his name in some way, even if it was with a mere grunt or a nod. His icy arm was prism of light and bone as he waved to his subjects, the sunlight directing a dance of blueish skeletal shadows about the snow-packed ground.

Sam followed him until they reached a new set of stairs, and the yeti king halted, stepping aside. He grinned at her expectantly.

She frowned at him.

He seemed to pick up on her confusion, because he said, "Please, Sam, take the lead." He gestured for her to move forward, to what lay ahead at the peak of the glittering stairs.

The crowd around them had grown considerably. Sam knew just by the way the back of her neck prickled, as so many sets of eyes landed on her, burned holes through her back. She could hear them muttering, too, though their words were indistinguishable, a dull roar that she was almost glad she couldn't hear.

Sam hesitated. Panic roiled in her gut.

You got this, Manson, she told herself. Just keep playing their game. If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead.

She climbed as slowly as she'd descended from the castle, half-scrambling over the too tall steps. She was panting by the time she reached the top, and when she did, she resisted every instinct that screamed at her to turn on her heel and clamber right back down them.

Because Frostbite had brought her to a goddamn stage.

xXx

The steaming water sputtered from the corroded shower head. Even though the temperature was warmer now than it had been in years, the pressure had scarcely been enough to saturate her hair, let alone cleanse the ever-present filth that continued to make her skin crawl, no matter how hard she tried to scrub it away.

Her teeth gritted, Valerie shoved the rusted handle of the shower door until it jolted open, just as the timer signaling the end of her shower chimed, and the water gurgled to a stop. The shower stall was unpleasantly cold, and yet she hardly shivered as she dressed into her grey jumpsuit. She was still too numb.

It has been four days since her last mission.

Four days since the ambush at the fusion reactor, in which the Resistance had suffered a substantial loss to their numbers.

Four days since they'd lost Sam.

Valerie's bottom lip trembled as she shoved her way past the doors of the compound's communal bathrooms, and through the group of people milling in the hallways beyond. Many spared her pitied glances as she passed, some even murmuring their condolences in that hushed way that she hated. She ignored them.

It was rare for the hallways to be this full so early in the morning. Valerie had hoped that she'd gotten up early enough to avoid the crowds, but wasn't exactly surprised, either, considering what this day would entail.

Today the Resistance would be holding a ceremony, led by her father, in which they would honor those lost in the ambush.

Her steps through the compound's upper levels were familiar from the years and years she'd spent wandering them. She could probably walk them blindfolded, should the need ever arise. She supposed that could be a cool party trick, if not for the fact that parties didn't exist anymore. Funerals did though. How that was fair, she wasn't sure.

Valerie was raking her hands through her damp mass of ringlets as she entered her father's office.

Her father and Vlad Masters both turned to her as she entered, her father's brows rising as he took her in, probably sensing just how brittle she still was. "How are you doing, baby girl," he asked softly.

"I'm fine," she growled, her eyes narrowing on Vlad who stood at her father's shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

Vlad, to his credit, did not seem perturbed by her venom. "Good morning, my dear," he greeted. "I'm glad to see you feeling better. Your father and I were just going over the schematics for the other reactors."

"What? Already?" She was horrified. "The funeral is today."

"Ah, yes, there is that," Vlad agreed.

Valerie gave her father a beseeching look. "You promised we'd talk before working with him again."

Her father's expression was blank. "I'm sorry, baby girl," he said. "But now that the fusion reactor has filled the bulk of our energy reserves, we can finally work to get the other reactors working." He tapped the illuminated screen of the tablet at his desk. "Maybe even get the shields in the city working again."

"Did you forget that he sent our people out into a goddamned ambush?" Valerie snapped at her father, who flinched at the fury in her words. "One that even the Fentons knew about? Warned you about?"

Her father flinched again, a muscle in his clenched jaw twitching. "The Foley boy told you." It wasn't a question.

Valerie raised her chin. Her father hadn't wanted to her know that last tidbit. And likely would never have told her himself had Tucker Foley not filled her in after Valerie's run-in with Maddie Fenton in the upper levels four days ago. She shuddered then, remembering the distraught horror on Maddie's face when the older woman had learned Sam's fate.

Sam.

Valerie's hands became fists.

She could still see her old friend, shrouded by that writhing horde of spectral monsters, reaching for her, desperation in her violet eyes. Valerie had been so close. So fucking close. She'd had her. Could still feel the way her fingers had brushed Sam's, so close to grabbing her before those horrible spooks took her.

And yet . . . she'd failed.

Her father's single eye widened as Valerie drew a trembling breath, glared at him with her eyes gleaming. Then she directed an even more scathing glare at Vlad. "You did this."

Vlad, who had been watching her quietly, said, "If you would let me explain—"

She jabbed a pointed finger in his face. "Explain nothing. This is your fault." She jabbed again. "Your fault, you pompous bastard."

The air in the room seemed to chill considerably as Vlad sighed. Calmly, he lowered her finger from his face, then dabbed at his brow with his stark white handkerchief that he pulled from the chest pocket of his jumpsuit. His skin appeared even more sickly than normal—green, even—under the bright fluorescent lights. "My condolences for the loss of your friend," he told her. "But we still have more work to do, you and I."

"Is that so?" Valerie's hands were on her hips, her teeth bared in a smile. "We'll see about that. I'll tell everyone what you did."

"What I did?" Vlad drawled, bemused. He arched a brow at her. "Had you not missed your target, things may have ended differently, my dear girl."

Valerie felt herself become hollow. "What do you mean? Phantom was way too powerful and only there for like five minutes. And I didn't see any of the others from your list." She crossed her arms, digging her fingernails into the creases of her elbows. She added weakly, "There was nothing I could do."

But even as she said it, doubt settled in, oily and viscous as it seeped past her resolve. Had she not been so focused on the horde attacking Sam, would she have been able to stop the ambush entirely? How different would things have been had she apprehended Phantom the moment it appeared on her scanners? By the time her scanner had pinged with its whereabouts, it had been too late. Both Sam and her target—gone. The shame of her failure lingered like the acid in the churning pit that was her stomach.

Vlad sighed again, glancing at her father who continued to sit at his desk, watching them blankly.

"I understand you are grieving, my dear," Vlad said. "But I have done nothing wrong. It was a minor miscalculation on my part, and I do apologize for any inconvenience it may have caused you."

Valerie sputtered with indignation. "Inconvenience? People died." Her voice cracked. "Sam died."

"An unfortunate accident, I'm afraid," Vlad crooned. "And a slight setback. The research I've conducted in the days since, however, will be sure to atone for that."

"What do you mean?" Valerie questioned warily. She shook her head. "I'm not sure I want to be a part of anything that involves you anymore."

Vlad's lips curled into an arrogant sort of smile, one that was both cold and welcoming. His hand brushed her father's shoulder.

As if lurching from a stupor, her father shifted in his seat and steepled his fingers. "It's alright, Valerie," he said. "Vlad already told me that the specimens you retrieved were enough for him to move forward on one of his other projects."

"Other . . . projects?" Valerie took an uneasy step towards them. "What other projects?"

Now it was Vlad who tapped the screen of the tablet. "Come read for yourself, if you feel so inclined."

With a withering glare directed at Vlad but unable to suppress her curiosity, Valerie approached her father's desk and peered over his shoulder, to where the tablet screen still lay, its screen bright and beckoning. Her brows furrowed, she watched as Vlad flicked the screen with the reactor's schematics aside, opening a different tab that required his thumbprint to engage. Then another screen of encryption appeared, and he typed in a fifteen-digit code. He handed it to her.

Valerie frowned at the screen as she read the first page. Then she scrolled down, read some more, and breathed, "What the hell is this?"

As Vlad's leading sweeper, having been assigned to his unit since his arrival at the compound, she had always been the first to know of his projects over the years. Even before he presented them to her father.

But she hadn't known about this.

"I can make you powerful," his voice, as smooth as silk, crooned into her ear. And then his hand touched her shoulder too, as he'd done with her father, his cool fingers chilled enough that she felt them through the starchy fabric of her jumpsuit.

She read the screen again, contemplative, her anger and her revulsion melting away the more she read.

And then, slowly, a smile slinked across her face. "Tell me more about Project Ectom."

xXx

Tucker wanted nothing more than for this day to be over.

The feeling in the room was grim and brimming with melancholy, palpable enough that he felt as if it was a physical force hellbent on smothering him. Or perhaps that was due to the masses of people crammed against him, as the twelve hundred or so residents packed together into the cafeteria until they spilled out into hallways, their eyes trained to the mezzanine where Damon Gray and his group of cronies stood with postures as stiff as the material of Tucker's jumpsuit.

The old general had just given some shitty speech, in which he'd urged everyone gathered to pray with him as he honored those lost four days ago in the ambush. And now he was in the process of returning their remains to their loved ones.

Tucker had to force his breath to remain steady as, one by one, families climbed the steps of the mezzanine. Children, partners, brothers, sisters—all shaking with grief as Damon thanked them for their unwavering support of the cause, their sacrifice, and then one of Damon's goons would hand over the sealed plastic boxes. Boxes that contained the cremated remains of their loved ones. Behind them on the surrounding screens, an image of the deceased would appear, their name, and a small blurb about who they were or what they meant to the Resistance.

Then they would leave, and the next family would make the climb.

Considering that they'd lost over fifty people and had only just started the ceremony, Tucker knew that the day would be long and filled with mourning.

Around him, red-eyed people sniffled. Some wept. Others wailed.

Tucker swallowed thickly. He shifted from foot to foot and tugged at the collar of his jumpsuit, too hot in the overcrowded room.

God, he hated funerals. Always had.

He'd been to many over the years. It was one of the many unpleasant side effects of living through an apocalypse. One that he could very much do without.

Especially this one in particular, because . . . because . . .

Tucker's burning throat tightened. He shifted again.

He saw his mother glance at him from his peripheral, and then her arm was around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "I am so sorry, my son," she whispered into his ear. "You know your father and I are proud of you, right?"

From his other side, his father's voice rumbled, "Your mother's right, you know."

Tucker nodded back dumbly. But he couldn't speak. Not when the words would just get stuck in his throat. Instead, he kept his eyes trained forward, to the screens, though he could barely see them anymore as they'd begun to blur.

Because the image of Dick Belair's haggard unsmiling face stared at him from the grainy screen behind Damon. With no family left to claim his remains, it was Dale Barbarra who'd climbed the steps to the mezzanine, accepted the little box with a jerked nod and a grimace.

Tucker observed Sam's mentor, noting the hollowness in his eyes, the arm set in a large cast, and the way he walked, limping.

"That man is the last person who should be on his feet," his mother said, shaking her head.

Tucker agreed. Though he secretly admired the surly man for being there anyway, bound by honor and seemingly propelled by it. Barbarra's steps down the mezzanine's long staircase were slow and awkward, but he persevered, and when he reached the end of it, he yanked an unlit cigarette from his pocket and shoved it into a corner of his mouth, the blue box containing what was left of Belair tucked in the crook of his casted arm.

Barbarra caught Tucker's eye. The older man nodded once, his face grave, and then disappeared into crowd.

The ceremony continued. Tucker barely listened. Too lost in his own troubled thoughts, he drifted somewhere far, far away.

Until they got to Sam.

It took every ounce of his self-control to hold himself together as her face appeared on the large overhead screens. It was a picture that she'd recently had taken, one that he'd relentlessly picked on her about since the first time he'd seen it, the scowling yet smiling face of her sweeper badge. He'd affectionately called it her scowl-smile, much to her dismay.

The wasted, rawboned husk of Pamela Manson stood trembling at the top of the mezzanine; her glazed eyes hardly aware of the world around her as the little pink box that Tucker knew did not contain Sam's ashes was placed into her shaking hands. It was a standard protocol, that even when no remains could be retrieved, the family would still receive the same box as the others.

Tucker had once thought it morbid. Until Jazz explained that it was to give families a sense of closure, to help ease the pain of having no body to bury.

Families could then travel lower, to the damp catacombs beneath the bunker and bury their boxes there should they choose to, little capsules of ash and bone. Or they could keep them in their rooms.

Most chose the first option.

He wondered which option Sam's mom would choose.

Tucker's glasses fogged from his unshed tears. He yanked them from his face and wiped them clean with the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

His mother's hand gripped his wrist then, halting him.

"Tucker," she chided, "you'll scratch your glasses by doing that."

Tucker merely shrugged in response. But he didn't object as his mother snatched the glasses from him and polished them with a small microfiber cloth that she pulled from the chest pocket of her own jumpsuit. He did offer her a mumbled "thanks" when she handed them back to him. They were the first words he'd spoken all morning, his voice hoarse and graveled.

"My poor boy," his mom sighed. She pressed her lips to his left temple. "You were such a good friend to that girl. I'm so, so sorry."

Tucker swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thanks, mom," he croaked. "She was a good friend to me, too."

"You know your father and I are always here for you, right?"

"That's right, son," his father agreed, slinging his arm around them both. "We're so proud of you."

The burning feeling in Tucker's throat was beginning to choke him. He had to look away from his mom, his dad—away from the warmth and pity and love he saw in their faces.

His eyes drifted then, to where the three Fentons stood huddled together near the steps of the mezzanine. They looked as grief stricken as he felt, their faces no doubt a mirrored image of his own. They seemed to be watching the mezzanine steps expectantly. A moment later, he realized with a start that they were waiting for Sam's mom to scramble back down them.

The moment Pamela's ratty old shoes brushed the cold tiled floor, Maddie was on her, arms wrapping around the smaller woman's shoulders in a tight embrace. With how frail she seemed, Tucker wasn't sure how Pamela's bones didn't crumble under the force of such a hug.

Jack was next. However, despite his size, his embrace appeared much gentler than Maddie's had been, which he then followed with a ruffle to the collar of Pamela's threadbare jumpsuit. His large hand nearly enveloped the entire bony protrusion that was her shoulder. Tucker could see his lips moving, blue eyes swimming with tears.

Jazz did not encroach Pamela's space. Her eyes, though sad and her cheeks tearstained, seemed to blaze with an inner fire that Tucker swore he could feel, even from where he stood a hundred or so feet away from them. She began murmuring to Pamela as well.

If their actions or their words had resonated with her at all, Sam's mom did not show it. She'd accepted their embraces though hadn't returned them, and her eyes had been distant and glazed. As if she hadn't heard them at all. There was no spark, no flicker of emotion or recognition—nothing. Her pale fingers gripped the little box, its bright pink coloring a juxtaposition to the tattered gray of Pamela's clothing, and even Sam herself, as she'd always preferred blacks and dusky purples over brights and pinks.

Sam would hate it that a pink box had been chosen for her.

A lurching wave of emotion slammed through Tucker's chest then. He had to look away. Had to leave the room. Had to be anywhere else but here in this stifling sea of sadness and grief.

He rasped a quick apology to his parents and shoved his way through the crowds, the rest of the funeral be damned. He didn't care. Not when the remains of his best friend rotted in the broken world above him, and he was supposed to play pretend and mourn a pink box instead.

Well, fuck that.

He wouldn't do it.

He'd just crossed the threshold of the cafeteria and begun pushing his way through the onlookers in hallway beyond when a voice called his name, stopping him dead. He turned just in time to see Valerie Gray weave and shove her way through the crowd behind him. She must have seen him leave and decided to follow.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he echoed. He didn't bother trying to appear pleasant. Sam's former friend was the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Where are you going?"

He shrugged.

"Got a minute?"

He shrugged again.

Her teal eyes were as cold as ever. "Okay, well, mind if we talk somewhere less . . ." Her nose wrinkled as she glanced at the people surrounding them. ''. . . peopley?"

Tucker sighed, frustrated. He didn't know what she could possibly want from him. If she wanted his sympathy for never mending her relationship with Sam before she'd died, that was on her and her alone and she could go fuck herself. He needed to handle his own shit first—which was unraveling more and more by the second.

"Fine," Tucker sighed. He started walking down the brightly lit hallway (brighter than he'd ever seen thanks to the power now coursing from the fusion reactor), and she followed, quickly falling into step beside him.

Once they rounded into an intersection of barren corridors, Valerie said, "I need any camera footage you can get from Amity four days ago."

Tucker's feet scudded to a stop so fast that his shoes squeaked on the tile. "Seriously, Valerie? You want to talk shop now?"

"I also need you to get me the data from the Fentons' environmental drones, weapons schematics, and anything else they have on ectobiology." She lifted her chin, authority rippling from her in waves.

"I thought you wanted to talk about Sam!" Tucker exclaimed. His rage and his grief mingled together, became one with each other as he glared at her.

Valerie's face remained indifferent, though something in her eyes flickered. "Sam's dead. Talking about her isn't gonna change that."

"Today is the funeral," he spat.

She observed him coolly, looked him up and down. "And?"

"You're unbelievable."

Hand on her hip, her expression melted into exasperation, and she rolled her eyes. "Just get the data, Foley. I need it."

He bristled at her tone. "What do you even need it for?"

"That's confidential," she said in silky voice while she feigned examining her nails. "You don't have the clearance."

Tucker scoffed at her, the revulsion in his face unbidden. He'd known Valerie was a piece of work, as Sam had told him countless times over the years, but this . . . His nose wrinkled at her in disgust. Vlad's star pupil, indeed. They were cut from the same awful cloth.

He'd just turned away from her when her hand caught his shoulder.

"Because I'm going to kill the ghost responsible." Her voice shook. He was surprised to see that the teal in her eyes blazed with cold fire. "I'm gong to find Phantom, find its stupid dog, and I'm going to obliterate them."

Tucker stared at her for a long while. Then he sighed. "No."

She sputtered, her eyes wide with disbelief and fury. "Excuse me? No?"

"No," he repeated. "Now if you'll excuse me."

He made to sidestep around her, but she stepped with him, blocking him

"You are making a huge mistake," she ground out through her teeth. The dark ringlets of her wild hair resembled a thundercloud, curling around her shoulders, her beautiful face a portrait of rage and contempt. She demanded, "Why?"

Tucker stood tall as he looked down his nose at her. "Because of who your boss is."

And then he strode past her, leaving her seething in his wake.

xXx

Sam felt herself shrink under the stares currently blanketing her as she stood atop the icy platform.

Had circumstances been different, she might have marveled at the intricacy in which the icy columns supporting the stage wove together, enveloping its outermost edges with twisted vines of crystal-clear ice. The stage itself was round and rather large, and in its center another elaborate column protruded, peaked by a glittering blue orb that she wasn't sure was ice or something different as it shone beneath the sunny sky.

It was an effort to keep her spine straight, to not duck her chin into the soft furs warming her neckline, as more and more yeti and other creatures she didn't recognize appeared within the growing crowd.

And then, adding to her confusion as well as her impending horror, Frostbite walked to the column at the stage's center and plunged his now glowing claws into the ice, imbuing it with a bright cold power.

The column began to illuminate with the same pale blue as Frostbite's energy, became more and more intense, until it was suddenly so bright that Sam had to look away from it. The energy coursing through its spire reached a crescendo, pooling within the orb, and then, like a jolt of lighting, the power shot from the orb and blasted into the sky.

Alarmed, Sam jumped away from it. But she couldn't stop herself from gaping at the pillar of polar energy now radiating skyward.

Frostbite merely laughed. "All is well, Sam," he shouted merrily over the loud hum of thrumming energy, his face illuminated with bright blue light, "I am merely calling my people to gather."

Sam's stomach dropped to her feet.

Oh no.

Her eyes darted to the crowd, and indeed, Frostbite's stupid light pillar had an instantaneous effect on the crowd. It grew considerably in a short amount of time. And continued to grow, even after he removed his claws which caused the light to fizzle out.

Sam shifted, her cheeks heating as what seemed like thousands upon thousands of alien eyes landed on her and the yeti king. From where she stood, she saw even more of the yeti emerge from the castle—which she hadn't even noticed until now was carved out of a fucking mountain—and came to join the crowd at her feet.

She spotted Tsuel then, an apron still covering her lilac dress, at the base of the castle stairs, several foxen around her and one of them even perched delicately on her furred shoulder. It was hard to tell with the distance between them, but Sam was certain she saw the female nod at her in greeting.

Several other yeti who she recognized had pushed their way to the front of the crowd.

"What is the meaning of this, Frostbite?" one of them demanded. His horns were crooked, glass spectacles gleaming in the light. Sam recognized him from last night's dinner and remembered that he'd been less than thrilled with her presence there, of what Frostbite had intended to share with her. She was also surprised by how much smaller the male yeti was compared to the others. They all seemed to tower over him, females included.

"Peace, Driftwind," Frostbite told him. "I am merely calling our people to gather so I may make an announcement."

Driftwind sputtered, his grey eyes wide. "But, my liege, I am your advisor. Any announcements should be channeled through me first, so we may come up with a proper—"

"Bah." Frostbite waved his advisor's words off. "I have no need for court protocol."

"But—!"

But Frostbite had already turned away from Driftwind. Sam couldn't stop the pang of pity she felt at the look of gloomy resignation that bloomed on the smaller male's face at being dismissed so blatantly.

Instead, the yeti king had turned to watch the skies, his normally cheerful features tightened with irritation.

Sam followed his line of sight, to where he glanced at the sunlit horizon, where distant snow-capped mountains rose to touch the billowing white clouds that floated there. She squinted, trying to discern what he could be looking for.

Just as thunder cracked, loud enough to shatter the sound barrier. Sam smothered a flinch as two figures plummeted from the sky above her head.

They were nothing more than blurred silhouettes of black and white, careening across the brilliant blue sky, but Sam knew who they were by the spread of unease that wound in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry at the demonstration of such raw power. She had to take a step to steady herself on the platform when Phantom and Elle landed so hard that the whole thing tremored.

Frostbite's red glare was unamused. "Your response time is lacking, children," he said in low voice.

The ghost girl winced. "Sorry, father," she whispered back. "Blame Danny."

Phantom rolled his eyes and gave Frostbite a pointed look that bespoke the contrary.

Sam observed Phantom then with a sidelong glance. He stood tall and straight, broad shoulders squared, with his hands clasped loosely behind his back as his black cloak billowed in the cold wind around him. The epitome of someone raised at court, she surmised. Calm, cool, and collected.

He must have sensed her stare, because before she could look away, his chilled gaze collided with her own, his irreverence for her blatant despite the neutral expression.

Not wanting to seem like she'd been caught staring, Sam used his attention to subtly flip him off.

Phantom's expression remained blank, though she filled with smug delight at the annoyance she saw simmering in his acid green eyes.

"What's going on?" Elle demanded. Her long white hair was a halo of glowing white in the sunlight. She jerked her chin at Sam, green eyes still narrowed on Frostbite. "And why Is the human here?"

"Yeah, quite the show you're putting on here," Phantom agreed. "We thought there was an actual emergency."

"Did the human do something already?" Elle said with venom, though she still pointedly ignored Sam, refusing to look her way, even as Sam glared at her in response.

Frostbite's eyes twinkled, a grin on his wide muzzle. "Peace, my children," he scolded them gently. "I merely wish to make an announcement."

Elle's brows pinched. "An announcement?" she drawled.

"Indeed," Frostbite responded cheerfully. "And I wish for Sam to see Ec'Nelis, now that she is healed enough to do so."

Elle and Phantom shared an incredulous look with each other, before directing it unanimously at their father.

"You pulled us off a patrol for this?" Elle asked in a voice lilted with irritation.

"It is an announcement of most importance," Frostbite said.

"And what importance would that be?" Phantom queried.

"Patience, my son," Frostbite said, his clawed hand falling to Sam's shoulder, urging her forward with him so they walked to the front of the stage. He stopped her short of the leading edge, however, and stepped ahead of her.

Sam heard Elle's voice mutter from behind her, "I swear, if this has something to do with the Writings, I'm going to vomit."

Phantom coughed to disguise his laugh. "It's father we're talking about," he whispered. "Ten silver pieces that he mentions the Writings in the first two minutes."

Elle snorted. "You're so on. I'm betting that he mentions them in four. I have a feeling he has a long-winded speech planned that will lead into it."

Phantom laugh-coughed again.

Sam glanced at the twin Phantoms over her shoulder, which caused all visible traces of their mirth to vanish in an instant. They observed her coolly in response.

"Turn back around, human," Elle snapped.

"Elle," Phantom warned. "Leave her alone."

Sam scowled at them both but kept her mouth shut. She hated having her back to them. Hated the way they subtly flanked either side of her, their combined presence sending constant lances of dread snaking up her spine, caused cold sweat to bead at the nape of her neck. She tried not to think about the fact that it would take only one blast of their power and she'd be dead.

"I don't get why he's doing this," Elle grumbled to Phantom. "Why can't we just keep it locked up until its portal reopens and send it back to the hellhole it came from. I mean, why go through all this?"

"How altruistic of you, Elle."

"Well, this is just stupid. I mean look at it. It looks absolutely ridiculous in those clothes. And is there not any food where it comes from, because look how skinny—"

It was then Sam realized that by 'it,' Elle had meant her.

Before she could stop herself, her head whipped back over her shoulder and she snapped, "the human can hear you, assholes."

Elle's eyes blazed, finally meeting hers. "Excuse me?" She took a single step toward Sam, blue light crackling at her fingers.

But Phantom halted her with an arm across Elle's chest. Sam was shocked when she realized the anger on his face was directed, not at her, but at his sister. "That's enough," he growled. "You're better than this, Elle."

Sam was about to retort, but Frostbite's voice boomed, somehow filling the entire village circle as the hundreds of yeti and other small creatures looked on.

"Greetings, citizens of Ec'Nelis," Frostbite began. "I bet you are all wondering why I have called you here today." A glance at Sam. "I bet you ponder over a human's presence in our midst, and what that means for our future."

The crowd murmured. Sam caught a glimpse of Icefang, who had come to join Driftwind and the other members of Frostbite's court at the crowd's leading edge, his eyes mere slits as he glared at her. A friendlier face in the form of a grinning Frostbreath stood at his other side. He raised his icy arm to her in greeting when their eyes met

Frostbite continued, "Have patience, because we shall get to that." Sam heard Phantom groan and Elle stifling a laugh behind her. "I would first like to begin with the acknowledgement of my son's return to our realm."

Excited murmurs punctuated by the title "Great One," could be heard rippling throughout the crowd.

"It has been many moons since my son has resided among us, after spending his time assisting the Infinite Realms in the Great War, as well as offering aide to unhindered spirits in the Mortal Realm." Frostbite turned to glance at Phantom, pride radiating from his gleaming red eyes. "These past few moons have been difficult for the Far Frozen, but we have stood strong and true, and I am sure my son's return will ease the fear many of you have felt in the wake of Pariah Dark's raids."

Through the cheers and hoots and hollers that followed Frostbite's words, Sam's mind reeled. She had so many questions. Shifting from foot to foot as a particularly cold lick of wind raced down the back of her neck, she stifled the urge to gape at the yeti king. She remained still, hoping to whatever god that existed in this realm that she didn't look as lost as she felt.

"Three days ago, my son and my brother, Frostbreath, returned from the Mortal Realm after Dark opened a rift large enough to unleash a horde upon a settlement of humans stationed there. When they returned, our guest, Sam Manson, was with them."

The murmurings increased tenfold then, so loud that Sam knew that even Frostbite would be unable to speak above them. Her brows knitted as she heard them whisper her name to each other, surprised when many pairs of eyes lit up with something akin to recognition.

"Icefang fears humans in general," Phantom had told her just last night. "Though your reputation does proceed you, to an extent."

Sam felt like there was a large piece to this puzzle that she was missing. One that appeared glaringly obvious to everyone else, apparently. She shifted again, brushing away the little flurries of snowflakes that were tossed into the air by the wind as they clung to her eyelashes.

Frostbite raised his icy arm to silence them, though they merely quieted. Sam could still hear them murmuring to each other. His voice both low and loud, he said, "I have come to tell you all I have met with the Time Guardian."

A hush fell over the crowd. Suddenly, the entire kingdom that was Ec'Nelis had fallen so silent that Sam could hear the faint rustling of the wind as it whispered through the surrounding buildings. In her peripheral, she saw the Phantom twins stiffen.

"I have come to tell you that the Writings have spoken true."

No one spoke. No one breathed. Even the wind had ceased, the kingdom so silent that Sam was sure that every beast in her vicinity could hear the racing of her heart. Many stared at their king, many at her, and the rest seemed to flick their gazes between them, uncertain.

Frostbite turned then, his clawed hand outstretched, his eyes meeting hers. He waited.

Sam stared back at him. Her feet remained unmoving, as frozen as the ground beneath her. She didn't know what to do.

"He wants you to join him." Phantom's voice was a low whisper. She hadn't realized he'd stepped to her side and was now so close that their shoulders nearly touched. His cloak brushed her side, its fur lining soft against the exposed skin of her neck.

"What?" she hissed back. But her head snapped back to Frostbite, where he stood patiently waiting for her, and she balked.

Oh no, absolutely not, her thoughts hissed. Walk up there, to the front of the stage, where an entire civilization of otherworldly creatures (many who clearly hated her) stood waiting? No thanks. Noooo fucking thanks.

But then Phantom said, "It's okay, Sam. They won't hurt you." His eyes flickered. "I won't let them."

She glanced up at him, so close that she could see the ectomplasmic green swirling in his eyes. And . . . she believed him?

The peculiar niggling of curiosity, similar to what she'd felt last night when she'd debated accepting the yeti king's dinner invite, eddied within her. She couldn't deny her intrigue. Of what lay ahead should she decide to embrace whatever cosmic path had been suddenly forged for her to walk.

She took a single step forward. And then another.

She walked until Frostbite's large, furred arm draped itself across her shoulders.

"Our Writings speak of The One Who is Whole, and The One Who is Half," Frostbite's voice boomed again, as loud as thunder in the quiet madness that had befallen his kingdom. "And it has been confirmed that Sam Manson of the Very Vegan, a human who has felled many of Pariah Dark's ghostly disciples, is indeed The One we have been waiting for."

There was an abrupt and collective gasp from the crowd. Sam allowed her eyes to drift to the wide-eyed yeti who stood before her. Somehow, she met the gaze of Tsuel, who was now as close to the platform as she could get. Snuggled into the fur of her arms and chest was an infant. Tsuel smiled at Sam, and then gently, she lifted the paw of her sleeping cub and proceeded to make it wave at her.

Frostbite said, "She is The One Who is Whole."

It was then that the shocked silence of the crowd shattered.

At first, Sam couldn't comprehend what it was that she was hearing. The whooping, the hollering, the whistling—it was enough to send her senses into overdrive. She stood frozen, her eyes wide and as panicked as a deer in headlights. She had expected anger and resentment, but this? This couldn't be right.

The yeti were cheering.

A/N: Yay, finally! I got this one done! And I have the next few days off work so I intend to get as much writing as I can done so hopefully the next update will be sooner than they have been as of late. I would really like to get back to biweekly updates but it's just so hard when you're busy.

Please leave some feedback if you can! It gives me wings and inspires me, though I appreciate anyone who reads here. Y'all rock. :)