Frozen Fire

Chapter Seven: A Courtly Dinner

xXx

Sam couldn't help but gawk as she followed Phantom through the maze of ice and stone.

After they'd departed from what Sam had come to recognize as the medical sector, with its sconces of blue flames and peculiar technology, she'd begrudgingly allowed the ghostly asshole to lead her through a winding web of passageways so complex that they'd made her head spin. What she had not anticipated, however, was just how fantastic and beautiful her walk would become.

The ceilings became arched, beautiful columns of ice ending in elaborate whorls, light cascading in ribbons of color. The floors were so brilliant of a blue that they gleamed like how Sam had always imagined the ocean. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her head felt as if it was on a swivel.

She was so absorbed by the majestic beaty of the place that she almost didn't notice when Phantom veered suddenly into an intersecting hallway.

She stumbled at the sudden redirection, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a cold, gloved hand seized her elbow to steady her. She ripped her arm away from his grasp on instinct, her body recoiling at the touch. "Don't," she hissed.

Phantom's hand disappeared into his cloak as if she'd burned him. "Apologies," he said stiffly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I don't need your help," she snapped. She hated the way his presence edged her nerves. It left the composure she'd spent years crafting in tatters.

He nodded once. "Noted." And then he turned and strode down the hallway, his cloak billowing behind him. Sam had to jog to keep up.

She continued to follow him through the maze and was surprised as the hallway became more stone than ice. What was even more surprising was the orange torchlight that flickered from ebony sconces, a stark contrast from the tongues of blue flame she'd seen earlier. She stared at the flames, enchanted by the lambent warmth and the dark shadows that cascaded along greyish stones.

"We're here," Phantom remarked.

Sam looked away from the flaming sconces, her brow furrowed. She realized then that they'd stopped before a massive set of wooden doors. Her eyes roamed the intricate fillagree carved into the wood, noted the decorative metalwork of the hinges that glinted in the firelight. She ran her fingers along the etched, swooping patterns in silent wonder.

And then, she realized, voices could be heard from beyond those doors, booming loudly, which had Sam's heart lurching. She stepped away from the doors on impulse. Her eyes darted frantically to Phantom, only to be met with his unyielding, acid stare.

He leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He'd clearly been watching her for some time, his expression unreadable. "There are a couple things you should know."

Sam cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. The last thing she wanted him to see was how scared shitless she was. She tried not to think about the fact that he could probably sense it on her. "Like what?"

"The Yeti are peaceful. No one will hurt you," he told her.

Sam scoffed, and just as she opened her mouth to retort, Phantom cut her off.

"Icefang was just trying to protect us from you." His steely eyes narrowed on her. "He won't disobey my father's direct command. His honor overshadows his fear."

"Wait, he wanted to protect you guys from me?" She was stunned. "I don't know If I should take that as a compliment or not."

"He is honorable, and he is also scared."

She couldn't quite hide her shock. "Scared of me?" she asked in bewilderment. "He's like ten of me put together. Why would he be afraid of me?"

A small, rueful smile ghosted over Phantom's face. "Icefang fears humans in general, though your reputation does proceed you, to an extent."

"What does that—?"

He waved a hand, cutting her off. "Later, human." He was unperturbed by the seething look she gave him for interrupting her. "There is a lot you don't know. I'm sure my father will explain some things to you tonight, but for the love of everything Ancient,"—his green eyes narrowed sternly on her, the glow amplifying—"behave."

Sam hated the way her heart jumped at the sight. God damn, he was terrifying. "Is that a threat?"

The glow lessened as he blinked it away. "It's not. But the Yeti are good beings. They don't deserve your ridicule."

Sam felt the bravado in her deflate a little at that. "Fine," she snapped, crossing her arms defensively. "I'll play nice."

He stared at her for a moment longer before he nodded once. "Good."

Sam huffed a strand of hair out of her face and looked away, as if distracted by the artwork on the wooden doors. Really, she just wanted an escape from the weight that his gaze cast on her. It was heavy like lead and full of calculative intent.

And if she was being honest, the fact that she was standing here conversing calmly with a ghost—let alone one as infamous as Phantom—was still a hard pill for her to swallow. It was surreal. Beyond surreal, actually. It was like being in a dream that she couldn't wake from.

She pretended to marvel at a particularly intricate portion of the carved filagree. "For the record, I don't trust you. Like, at all," she told him.

"Nor I you," he countered.

"Wow, something we finally agree on," she deadpanned.

He laughed without humor. "A mutual mistrusting, then. Agreed." He stood up and away from the wall, his taller frame looming over her as he reached for one of the great wooden doors.

Sam felt her veins freeze as the distance between them shrank. "I can get it myself," she snapped, wincing at the way her voice hitched in panic.

Phantom backed away and made a grandiose gesture towards the doors and smirked. "Be my guest, human."

Sam scoffed. She resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him, that infuriating asshole of a ghost, and instead settled for a fleeting glare that she shot him over her shoulder as she stormed toward a door to push it open.

And then promptly collided with it. The wind rushed from her lungs in an audible "Oof."

What she hadn't anticipated was how damn heavy it would be. It stopped her short without budging at all, her face nearly becoming embedded into the beautifully carved surface. She felt her cheeks burn when she heard the poorly contained snort of amusement from behind her.

She glared at Phantom again, hating that widening smirk on his stupid face. Then she returned to face the door, squared her shoulders, and pushed.

And pushed.

And pushed.

And . . . nothing. Neither a creak nor a groan. She may as well have been pushing against a brick fucking wall.

"Is this actually a door, Asshole, or are you punking me?" she ground out through her teeth, beyond frustrated, the entirety of her bodyweight leveraged and getting her absolutely nowhere.

"Yes, decorative fake doors are a staple in the Far Frozen, didn't you know? I had this one made specifically for you, actually," Phantom intoned dryly. He sighed. "As amusing as this is, human, we are now rather late and I am actually hungry, so if you don't mind . . .?"

Again, Sam felt her veins freeze. She felt the sheer wrongness, that innate reflex that bubbled from her very being, urging her to run, as the powerful ghost approached. But this time she held her ground, even as his arm snaked past her to press against the wood.

"There is one other thing I should probably warn you about," Phantom said.

Sam craned her neck to look at him and immediately balked at how close they were. She couldn't stop herself from stepping away. "And what is that?"

"When it comes to hosting guests . . . the Yeti can be a bit . . ." With a single arm he pushed open one of the giant doors as if it were made of air. "Extreme."

"Extre . . .?" The questioned died in her throat the moment that the great door groaned wide and revealed the room within.

It was like opening a door to one of her old fantasy novels. If her jaw dropped, she didn't care.

Warm torchlight danced from more of the ebony sconces, bathing the entire room with the coziest of ambiences. Gone were the icy webs of snaking passageways and strange glowing lights. This was a room carved masterfully from stone. The ceiling was vaulted like a cathedral, with a wonderous chandelier comprised of crystals and gemstones swinging above a long, wooden table. Wooden pillars, etched with the same filagree as the door, jutted along the walls, adorned with artfully woven tapestries.

And the voices she'd heard from behind the door were hushed now, as every one of the room's occupants had turned to stare from their seats at the long table.

Countless beasts—no, Yeti—watched her with wary eyes. There had to be a dozen of them, at least. Some, she recognized from earlier, while others were new to her. Sam noticed immediately where Frostbite was, as his mass made him hard to miss. He sat in an oversized chair at the head of the table, a large metal challis of a red liquid in his claws. Two tall chairs were on opposite sides of the table closest to him, one of them empty, and the other . . .

Sam nearly gasped.

A ghost with a strong resemblance to Phantom sat rigidly with her acid green eyes blazing at Frostbite's left shoulder. Her hair was long, the whiteness of it stark and ethereal in the torchlight. Her cloak was white and lined with fur, cascading behind her shoulders so it revealed the pale blue tunic she wore beneath, fastened at her throat by a glittering azure gemstone. She glared at Sam with an unbridled hatred, her fingers clutched tight around the stem of her goblet.

There are two of them? Sam thought in panic. She resisted the urge to do a doubletake between Phantom and the angry female ghost that looked like him. Was she powerful too, as he was? Yep, Sam realized, she was screwed.

Royally, epically, screwed.

She opted to look away from the female ghost's furious glare and instead eyed the liquid in Frostbite's colossal challis. She wondered if it was blood. And if it was, perhaps it was her own that would be next to be spilled and fill their cups. Her heart hammered harder, the weight of all those stares suddenly too much to bear.

There was no way she could do this. No fucking way.

She nearly jumped when Phantom cleared his throat behind her, breaking the silence. "The human has decided to accept your invitation, father."

"Wonderful!" Frostbite raised his goblet and grinned. "My son and our guest have arrived!" He stood from his chair, and Sam was shocked when the entirety of the room quickly followed suit, their own glasses raised. "May we welcome her with the utmost grace and hospitality of our court." He gestured to an open seat near Frostbreath, a little further down the table from his own chair. "Come, human girl. Sit and dine with us. We have much to speak of."

Sam very much did not want to do any of those things. She didn't want to sit in their midst, didn't want to eat their food (though her stomach rumbled in protest to that thought), didn't want to talk. Instead, she stood frozen, her knees threatening to buckle even as she held her chin high. She refused to let them see just how unnerved and frightened she truly was.

Phantom was at her shoulder. In a low voice, he told her, "They won't hurt you. You have my word."

She narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Your word?

He nodded once, and then strode past her toward his own seat at the open tall chair near Frostbite. The ball was truly in her court now, she supposed, as she stood alone before a court of monsters.

You got this, Manson, she told herself. Remember, play the game and stay alive. That's your only chance of getting out of here.

Stiffly, she walked toward that empty seat near the grinning Frostbreath. Chin high and shoulders back, she did her best to project the façade of indifference, though she was certain it did little to mask the scent of fear that permeated the air around her.

It was only when she quietly seated herself in a chair that was too low before a table that was too tall that the rest of the room returned to their own seats.

Unfortunately for her, they continued to stare in silence. It was almost as if they were waiting for her to sprout a second head or something equally ridiculous. She met all their stares, even Icefang's vile glare from across the table, to whom she allowed herself to smile at a little, though smugly, and was pleased when his teeth gnashed in response.

A slightly framed, yellow-eyed and hornless Yeti eyed her curiously from the seat just beyond Frostbreath. When Sam looked at—her?—the dainty beast smiled slightly, nodding her head once in greeting. Sam felt her smug grin falter at the gesture and returned the nod, suddenly shy.

"I am glad that you have decided to accept my offer of your attendance here tonight," Frostbite said, his booming voice filling the entire chamber. "It is most exciting for all of us. Now please, human girl, may we learn what you are called?"

Sam's hands were shaking in her lap, which she hid within her sleeves. You can do this, Manson. She cleared the lump in her throat. "Sam," she told them. "It's Sam . . . Manson." Did she imagine the hushed murmurs she heard then in response?

"Sam Manson." Frostbite repeated and raised his challis again. "Well, Sam Manson, may we welcome you to our humble kingdom of the Far Frozen. As you know, I am Frostbite, the ruler of this realm." He gestured to Phantom's female replica. "You have met my son, Danny, already, but this is my daughter, Elle."

The ghost named Elle didn't even spare Sam a glance at the mention of her name. Instead, she seemed to be having a wordless conversation across the table with Phantom, her green eyes narrowed while Phantom countered with an arched brow, sipping from his own challis. Sam stared at them, when something suddenly dawned on her.

Danny? Who the hell was Danny?

Frostbite continued, unaware of her confusion. "One of my children shall someday succeed me in the ruling of the Far Frozen. It is my hope"—Sam didn't miss the pointed glances he gave each of them—"that they are kind and hospitable during your stay here."

Elle stiffened and crossed her arms, while Phantom raised his own glass in Sam's direction. "Indeed, Sam Manson," he drawled. Sam frowned at how strange it was to hear his voice say her name. She gritted her teeth when he smirked crookedly at her. "Now that the human has joined us, I think it is time to start the feast."

"I concur!" Frostbreath announced loudly from his place beside Sam, startling her. "Let us celebrate the presence of the human girl, as well as the return of our Great One!"

"I could not agree more, brother," Frostbite responded jovially. His gaze met Sam's. "May you find the food appropriate for your palette, Sam Manson. I am not sure what a human diet consists of, so I made sure to have our servers prepare a variety of selections for you to choose from."

It was then that Sam realized that she'd had yet to even look at the food. She surveyed the many colorful trays and bowls and cups spread in an elaborate arrangement before her. The large table was rife with unidentifiable fruits, meats, and other odd-looking edibles that she had never seen before, and all were lavish in their presentation. Shining plates of stained glass were laid neatly before each place setting, with long, duel pronged forks and curving serrated knives adorned around them. She eyed what looked to be a purple apple the size of her head and frowned at it.

Frostbite was watching her, smiling wide enough to reveal every one of his sharp teeth. When the silence continued and the stares became slightly impatient, did a new and terrible realization settle upon her.

Shit.

They were waiting for her.

Waiting for her to make the first selection.

Suddenly, she was horrified.

Extreme, my ass.

She shot a glare in Phantom's direction, to which he shrugged in response, as if to say I told you so. Then he rolled his eyes and subtly pointed at the table, clearly annoyed she'd had yet to make a selection.

What the hell was she supposed to do? They had clearly orchestrated much of this feast in her honor, but she had no idea what anything was, let alone if it was even safe for her to eat. For all she knew, their food was poisonous to humans.

The silence dragged on. Her anxiety climbing, Sam grabbed the safest thing she could think of, which was a leaf of green from the nearest platter within arm's reach. She seized it, fumbling slightly at its bulk, and dropped it unceremoniously onto her plate. She could feel her ears burning, hyperaware that an entire room of beasts was scrutinizing her every move.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the giant leaf and took her first tentative bite.

Crunch.

The sound of the leaf between her teeth was so painfully, awkwardly loud that every one of the spooks jumped. But Sam didn't care, for a new dilemma had begun to unfold. She was trying her best to keep from retching as the leaf's bitter taste exploded in her mouth.

The tension lifted as Frostbite roared with laughter. He slammed one of his fists onto the table so hard that numerous cups and dishes in his vicinity leaped and spilled. "Our guest has taken the first of bites," he roared. "Now let the feast begin!"

Well, so much for ghosts not being able to eat, Sam thought to herself as she watched the entire conglomeration of Yeti dive ruthlessly into the food. Where did it all come from, anyway? She found herself cringing as Frostbreath reached for a large pinkish slab of meat, plopped it onto his tray, and began carving it with one of the knife-like utensils. Sleetjaw's selection was less disturbing as he grasped one of the purple apples; it crunched loudly as he took a bite of it. Phantom and Elle were arguing quietly with each other as they filled their plates, despite Frostbite's multiple attempts to subtly hush them.

Tears sprung from her eyes as the bitter taste of the leaf seemed to invade every one of her precious taste buds. She attempted in vain to swallow the bite she'd taken, but was unable to do so, and a new kind of panic began ebbing within her.

Water.

She needed water.

But the table was much too tall for her to easily find what she needed, and those challises were far too heavy for her to grab. Not to mention, she still had no idea what the hell was even in them.

The tears were now trailing down her cheeks. She coughed once, spraying flecks of green down the front of her new white-furred jacket. And then in a moment of uncalculated desperation, she reached for the nearest thing she could see, which was a small bowl of a gleaming amber liquid and drank from it.

It was immediately evident that she'd made a huge mistake.

The taste of the liquid was far, far worse than that of the leaf. Now Sam wasn't just choking, she was fucking gagging. Loudly. She forced herself to swallow the hellish concoction she'd created, though some of the liquid and bits of leaf dribbled from her mouth and down her chin.

Well, she thought as she wiped her face with her sleeve, at least I'm not choking anymore.

At first, she'd just been grateful to have survived the near-death experience, but as Sam's eyes lifted upwards, she immediately decided that choking to death was the much better alternative.

Because every single gaze in the room was once again fixated on her.

Her cheeks blazed as the Yeti stared at her, frozen into place, some of them even mid bite, their faces all reflecting the same variations of shock, horror, and some in plain disgust. Mortified, she pushed away her bowl of bile-juice and began the process of wiping leafy spew from her coat.

Shaking his head at her from across the table, ice horns glinting in the light, Icefang muttered, "Humans are barbaric."

"That was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen," Sam heard a female voice say. She looked over and realized it was Elle who had spoken. The ghost girl pushed her plate away and sighed. "Goodbye, appetite."

Frostbite was fascinated. "Is this a typical dining habit of your kind?"

The redness in Sam's cheeks deepened. "Uh, no . . ."

Frostbite's brow furrowed in confusion. He tilted his head sideways and then asked, "Then why, Sam Manson, did you drink the fish oil?"

She blanched. What? What did he say? Fish oil? Her stomach churned and she was coughing again, wiping her tongue with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Great Ancients, human girl, are you alright?" Frostbreath asked her with a worried frown. He handed her the challis from her place setting. "Perhaps you should drink?"

"Too . . .," Sam muttered between her coughs. ". . . heavy."

Realization dawned in Frostbreath's amber eyes. "Of course, please forgive our ignorance!" And then Sam's jaw dropped when a bright cold energy formed in his clawed palm, an undulating sphere that quickly took the shape of a much smaller, much icier challis. He transferred some of the liquid from the larger challis into it and handed it to her.

"What is this?" she croaked. The challis was freezing cold against her hands, but she brought it to her lips anyway. She didn't even have it in her to question the power Frostbreath had so casually demonstrated. She'd heard that ghosts could have unique abilities, but to see such a thing in person was a whole other level of strange.

"Wine," Frostbreath told her, smiling kindly.

Sam had had wine only once before. She'd shared a bottle with Barbarra and their squad of sweepers during an excursion a couple years prior, after her mentor had found it safely tucked beneath a chunk of rubble. She hadn't cared for it then, deeming it a suitable fine, and never bothered to try it again.

But the wine she sipped from that frozen challis was beyond anything she'd ever tasted before. It was sweet, but not too sweet, and utterly delicious. It was all she could do to keep from guzzling it. She forced herself to take a few measured sips. "Thank you," she said to Frostbreath. "You probably just saved my life. Again."

Frostbreath grinned at her. "It is my pleasure, Sam Manson," he told her. "May I assist you in the fixing of your plate?"

More than a little embarrassed, Sam sighed. "That's a probably good idea. I don't know what anything it is." She wrinkled her nose at the leaf on her plate. "Definitely not more of that."

Frostbreath's smile was slightly pained, though amusement twinkled in his eyes. "Ah yes, I can imagine that was an unpleasant experience. You see, human girl, that leaf is simply a garnish."

Sam's brows knitted. "Garnish?"

"Yes, it is decorative only. Quite terrible to the taste."

"You don't say," Sam said dryly, which caused Frostbreath to snort in amusement.

He gestured to a platter of meat. "Would you like some of the yakk? It is most delicious, seasoned and cooked to perfection."

Sam paled a little, not wanting to offend the beast. "I don't like eating meat," she said. "Fruits and vegetables are great, though."

"You do not eat meat?" Frostbite asked curiously. "Is that common for your kind?"

Sam shrugged. "No, not really. I just don't like to eat anything that had a face, if I can avoid it. But we don't have a lot back home, so mostly we just eat whatever we can."

Sleetjaw nodded at her from his seat across the table near Icefang. "That is corroborative of what I saw on your scans while you were in my care, Sam Manson. You are quite malnourished."

Sam blushed again. She shrugged without much else to say. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed. The sights and the smells and the selection of food was almost too much for her to comprehend. After years of eating whatever she could to survive, it was strange to suddenly have so many . . . options. In fact, when was the last time she'd been free to choose the food she ate?

Years, she realized. It had been years.

She stared at the plate that Frostbreath gently placed in front of her. Sipping her wine, she picked up a small slice of purple apple and sampled the corner of it. It was all she could do to keep from moaning at the taste. Sweet and crisp, it was probably the best thing she'd ever tasted in her lifetime.

A small slice of warm, crusty bread was also on her plate, spread with a fruity jam. Also delicious.

Steamed root vegetables, seasoned with spices and tossed with a vinaigrette. Amazing.

It wasn't long before she'd inhaled the entire plate of food and begun helping herself to more, her own inhibitions of where she was and with whom she dined with be damned. Anything she could grab within her reach that wasn't meat, she ate. A dish that resembled mashed potatoes, tiny star-shaped berries that crunched between her teeth like candy, small cakes and other pastries, more of the bread—she was in heaven.

"Careful, Sam Manson," Sleetjaw said gently, a hint of sadness in his tone. "You must be careful not to overwhelm your body with so much food. There will be plenty for you to eat while you stay here. You do not need to gorge."

Sam froze, bread in her mouth, suddenly very aware just how full she was. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a full belly. The feeling was alien. Slowly, she lowered the bread and pushed her plate away, staring sheepishly at her hands.

"We can work on developing a dish for you that is protein rich but has no meat," Sleetjaw said, grinning at her as he sipped his own wine. "Do you have any other diet restrictions?"

Sam shrugged again. "I'd prefer no meat and no animal byproducts, if possible. I mean I'll eat whatever at this point, but . . . that would be nice."

"How intriguing," Frostbite said. "Is there a name for what your palette is called, Sam Manson? I admit that our knowledge on humans is minimal and most outdated."

"Vegan, maybe?" Sam said, wracking her brain. "I'm not really sure, honestly." Something else occurred to her then. "Oh, and it's Sam. Just Sam. You don't need to include the Manson every time."

Frostbite smiled widely. "Sam," he repeated, raising his glass once more. "Sam of the Very Vegan, destroyer of ghosts!" Sam froze, while the room around her erupted with chuckles of amusement. The other Yeti raised their glasses to Frostbite in unison and sipped.

What had he meant about that last part, 'the destroyer of ghosts?' What did it mean that they laughed? Shouldn't it be problematic for them? She frowned down at her plate.

Was it intentional that they fed her all this food and now sought to get the root of her occupation? Is this when they ripped her apart and devoured her? The food in her stomach was suddenly roiling.

"Icefang fears humans in general," Phantom had told her earlier, "though your reputation does proceed you, to an extent."

What exactly had he meant by that? What was going on? Clearly, there was much they'd had yet to disclose to her.

She glanced at Phantom then, who was leaning languidly in his chair, chin in his hand, as he swirled the wine in his challis. His eyes flicked to meet her own as if he'd sensed her watching him, and his eyebrows rose in question.

"Sam," Frostbite said, startling her. She looked away from Phantom to meet Frostbite's sobering gaze. The Yeti king was watching her intently, though there seemed to be a mischievous glint in his ruby eyes. "Do you know where you are?"

"The Infinite Realms?" she said, reflecting on her earlier conversation with Phantom and his dissonance of her calling it the 'Ghost Zone.'

Frostbite grinned and nodded. "Do you know what that is?"

The room had once again grown quiet, all ears pricked to hear her response. For whatever reason, this answer was important to them. She tried to ignore the weight of their stares when she said, "Where the ghosts live?"

The Yeti around her murmured at that, though Frostbite nodded again, his eyes glittering. "While that is true, I am curious to learn what else it is you know. It is necessary if we are to learn from each other."

Sam frowned. She felt like she had been presented with a test that she hadn't been able to study for. He was clearly looking for specific answers, but she sincerely had no idea what he wanted from her.

"I . . ." She pursed her lips. "I don't understand what you're asking me."

"I am simply curious what it is you know of the Infinite Realms, Sam. I am not trying to trick you. I merely wish to understand where the humans stand in this war we all face."

This war we all face.

The war between humans and ghosts.

Her mind whirled.

They wanted to know where she stood? Where the humans stood? Against them? Or was there more she had yet to learn? She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a major discovery and about to plummet, as if her already fucked up world was once again about to be turned on end. She was missing something. Something big.

She mentally catalogued all she had learned from their behavior. They were strange creatures and nothing like the malevolent spooks she had spent her life destroying and fearing back in Amity. Phantom wasn't either, not really, though his ghostly attributes were much more prominent than that of the Yeti. She could sense him from across the room, and Elle too, their combined presence a film of poison in the air.

But the Yeti?

She reflected then on her conversation with Phantom back in the medical sector. He'd warned her before they left not to call them ghosts. Why?

Sam twirled her fingers in the fur of her coat. She shouldn't ask. She should shut her mouth and feign ignorance. But she couldn't stop the question as burst forth from where she'd tried to wall it in behind her better judgement. "Are you a ghost?"

The silence in the room became deafening. It was so still that the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the flaming sconces. Her heart raced at the tension.

It wouldn't last long, however, for it was Icefang who broke it as he jumped to his feet, moving the table a couple inches in the process. He leaned over it and snarled at her. "Have you no respect?!" he hissed through his bared, yellowish teeth, the hair on his body bristling.

"Peace, Icefang," Frostbite admonished while shooting the seething brute an authoritative glare. "We cannot condemn her for what she has not yet learned. The Mortal Realm has been out of reach for centuries now. She is merely ignorant. "

"Ignorant, father?" It was Elle's voice that rang shrilly now. She, too, soared to her feet, her white cloak and her hair a waterfall of white around her. She slammed her fists onto the table so hard that the entire thing rattled. "She's human."

"Elle . . .," Frostbite warned darkly.

"No, father," she hissed. "I'm trying. I'm trying, okay? But—this—I can't. This is wrong." She glared pointedly at Sam, her emerald eyes glowing and molten, before she turned on her heel in a flourish of white and stormed for the doors, threw them open, and disappeared beyond the threshold.

Phantom rose to follow her, but Frostbite stilled him with a large hand to his shoulder. "Leave her be, my son," Frostbite told him. "She needs to calm and find her peace on her own."

Conflicting emotions flickered across Phantom's face. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, and he looked for moment as if he would pursue Elle anyway, but he heeded Frostbite's command and fell to his seat with a huff. Slumped indignantly, he began pushing a small portion of food across his plate, glaring daggers at it as he did so. Sam realized she was staring again when he abruptly looked up at her with narrowed eyes. She tore her gaze away, embarrassed.

"I am sorry for my daughter. Humans were a cause of great pain for her in the past." His red eyes were sorrowful as he shook his head. "A past she has yet to overcome, unfortunately."

"A shame it is," Frostbreath murmured in agreement, and just as Sam was about to question the past events that they were referring to, he quickly added, "I believe you have a question to answer for Sam, brother?"

"Yes, indeed." Frostbite said. "You would like to know if I am a ghost, correct?"

Sam recognized a redirection when she heard one. She chose not to question Elle's history further, quickly surmising it was a delicate subject. She nodded.

"Frostbite . . .," Icefang warned. "Remember what you are talking to. Giving our secrets to."

"I agree with Icefang, My Liege," a spectacled Yeti with crooked horns who Sam didn't recognize said. "We do not know this human's intent, nor do we know her history, save for that she is a trained killer."

Frostbite waved away their warnings. "I understand there is apprehension, but for relations to be established between our kind and the humans, it is imperative that we first begin building our foundation." As he spoke, his eyes had come to land on Sam. He then reached for a knife and began twirling it delicately. "It is my belief that Sam shall be our bridge and our catalyst. She may be The One we have been waiting for."

The room erupted with a collective gasp and then broke out into murmurs. Chairs squeaked, dishes and utensils clattered. But Sam could only stare at the knife, twirling between Frostbite's claws and glinting in the light.

A portly female yeti without horns spoke next. "Have you spoken to the Time Guardian, Frostbite?"

"The Time Guardian spews nonsense," a Yeti further down the table shouted.

"It is no nonsense for it is what is Written!" another rebuked.

"What is perceived to be Written is merely an interpretation!"

"It is not!"

"Have you no respect for the Writings?"

"You all speak nonsense!"

Sam couldn't keep track of the voices around her any longer. The room had erupted into chaos, sounds and words and growls and claws raking against wood—all of it a roaring madness in her ears, but she paid no mind to any of it. She continued to stare at the knife in Frostbite's hand, her violet eyes wide, her stomach twisted into tangled knots.

Then Phantom stood, and the room quieted. His face was a mask of neutral indifference, though his eyes were hard as he stared down the table. That dangerous presence she sometimes felt from him now shrouded the entirety of the room, daring anyone to stand up and challenge him.

No one did.

Then he returned to his seat, and the strange feeling that coiled with the dread in the pit of her stomach ebbed away, though not completely. He leaned back into his chair and snatched a pastry from a nearby platter, his expression bored, as if he hadn't just intimidated an entire room of powerful beasts and this was the most goddamn normal dinner he'd ever been to.

"Sam," Frostbite said suddenly. He raised the knife to the light as if to inspect it. "It is my belief that you are here for reasons far greater than you realize."

Her fingernails dug into the wooden arms of her chair. This was it. This is when they killed her—spilled her blood and drank it. Perhaps they'd fashion decorative artwork from her bones after they'd stripped her clean of her flesh. She was foolish to have believed otherwise. Her heartbeat was like thunder in her chest, so loud that she could hear nothing else.

Phantom cleared his throat. "I think you're giving her the wrong idea."

"The human girl trembles in fear, brother!" Frostbreath exclaimed. "Think of the image you present to her now!"

"It is true, she has paled considerably. Given her already fair complexion, I would not have thought such a thing possible," she heard Sleetjaw say. "Human physiology is truly remarkable."

"Frostbite, you old bumbling bear, stop taunting the poor cub with your theatrics and get one with it!" a female voice chided from the other side of Frostbreath. Sam realized then it was the yellow-eyed Yeti who had given her the friendly smile and nodded at her earlier.

Frostbite's eyes widened. "My apologies, Sam, I do not mean frighten you. We mean you no harm, you have my word." And then with a speed that surprised her, he dragged the serrated edge of the knife across his own palm, deep enough to bleed. Congealing in blots, the stuff leaked from his palm and trailed down into the fur of his wrist, staining the whiteness of it.

Not green, but a deep, dark purple that discolored his fur almost pink.

Her carefully constructed world came to an earth-shattering standstill as Frostbite calmly told her: "The Yeti are not ghosts."

A/N: It's 1am here. I have to be up again in four hours. I've collectively had maybe nine hours of sleep in the past two days. This chapter fought me till the bitter end and if I don't post it now I never will. I just couldn't seem to make it how I wanted it. Oh well. Enjoy my sleep deprived nonsense. :)

*Sleetjaw belongs to Captain Ozone