Frozen Fire
Chapter Nine: A Timely Visit
xXx
When Sam woke, she was shivering.
She sat up from where she'd fallen asleep curled up on the floor before the fireplace. Her eyes were swollen from a night spent in tears and a dull ache thudded in her temples. She felt like absolute shit.
With a groan, Sam raked a hand through her greasy, unkempt hair. She'd drifted off in her food-stained clothing and even her shoes, yet still managed to wake up freezing. She gave the fireplace a withering glare, annoyed by the slightly warm embers still smoldering within.
"This place sucks," she grumbled to herself.
Years spent living underground had primed her biological clock to function well enough that she knew it had to be late morning, or somewhat close to it. She glared at the iced over doorway, as if expecting it to melt under her heated stare.
Her stomach rumbled then. An added layer of suck to and already shitty morning. Sam's frown turned into a scowl as she stormed over to her bed and yanked the blankets over her shoulders.
Just as the icy wall began to glow and dissipate.
Sam's breath hitched into a yelp. She backed rapidly into the corner of her room, gaping as the ice dematerialized before her eyes and the wooden door within opened, revealing the golden-eyed female yeti she had met at last night's awkward as hell dinner party.
She'd had yet to interact with a female yeti but there was no denying the creature's femininity as she stood before Sam with wide, glittering eyes. Much like the males, her fur was white accented with blue, and a muzzle full of gleaming teeth. Her fur seemed softer, her features more elegant, and her frame was slighter. She was dressed in a shimmery dress the color of lilacs.
And though she lacked the same mass and large, curling horns of her male counterparts, Sam was certain she could be just as lethal. She would need to proceed with caution.
Sam watched warily as the female yeti stepped into the room, just past the doorway and smiled at her. It was the same soft smile she'd given Sam at dinner last night.
"Greetings, human girl Sam Manson," the yeti said with a nod of her great head. "My name is Tsuel. I work in this castle for the Royal Family and have come to retrieve you."
Castle? Royal Family? Sam thought, but decided to file those questions away for later. She made no move forward, her grip tightening on her blanket. "Retrieve me for what?"
"I intend to bring you to the bathing springs, and then once you are clean, to the dining chamber so you may eat your breakfast," The Yeti said. "After you have dined, you are to meet with Frostbite and begin your training."
Sam was quiet while she digested Tsuel's words. She had questions. So many questions. But instead, she asked, "Bathing springs?"
Tsuel's small smile widened. "Come with me, dear cub."
When the yeti turned and disappeared through the doorway, Sam followed her through, only to be faced with a new bout of conflict. With Tsuel's back to her, she realized she now had a chance to escape. Her eyes flicked between Tsuel's back and the surrounding passageways, noting how each direction wound away from sight.
She was fast, she knew she could run. But then what? How long would it be before one of the others hunted her down, or would Tsuel be the one to catch her?
What if it was Phantom who found her? Sam shuddered at that thought.
"Sam?"
Sam jumped at her name, her widened eyes meeting Tsuel's in a moment of alarm. The yeti's brows were pinched, her head cocked slightly and her ears perked. She seemed to know exactly what Sam had been thinking but made no move to intervene. She didn't seem angry, either, which surprised Sam. If anything, she just seemed curious.
With a final longing glance at a tunnel to her left, Sam said, "I'm coming."
They walked in silence, while Sam made as many mental notes about her surroundings as she could manage. Every twist, every turn, every strange light and stone and rock—she filed away. Though the vastness of the place—of the castle, apparently—was enough to make her head spin.
They seemed to descend for a bit, walking through spiraling passages until the air became hot and damp. After being exposed to freezing temperatures for so long, Sam was too warm almost immediately. She fidgeted with the neckline of her jacket to pull it away from her skin.
"Why is it so warm here?" she asked.
Tsuel grinned at her over her shoulder. "There are hot springs in the lower levels. Perfect for bathing."
They stopped before one of several large stone doors. Tsuel hoisted it open with little effort. "Knock when you are done, and I will let you out." She handed Sam a small package of clothing that had been tucked into a leather satchel strung across her shoulder.
"Uh, thanks," Sam said awkwardly.
"It is no problem at all, dear cub."
"Uhm, what about—what about the bandages?" Sam asked.
"I spoke with Sleetjaw just this morning and he has told me that you are free to remove them yourself. But be gentle."
Sam nodded and then shuffled gracelessly into the room.
However, as soon as she entered, she gasped.
Would she ever stop being amazed by the wonderfully strange beauty of this place?
The room was a gleaming cavern of cerulean pools. The surrounding stones were varying shades of grey and blue, but the water itself was nearly incandescent under the glowing overhead lamps. Tendrils of steam wafted from the water and shrouded the room, kissing her skin with a damp warmth.
Sam noted the several pieces of wooden furniture near the entrance, though they were much too large to be of any use to her. She shrugged out of her fur coat, tossing it onto a bench that was practically up to her chest, and stripped until she was nude. With gritted teeth, she slowly peeled the bandages away from her aching skin until the rippled flesh of her shoulder became visible.
She gave the water a curious glance before she approached it.
Her reflection rippled back at her, nearly clear as a mirror. She stared at herself in mounting horror.
She'd always been thin, but a haunted shadow now lingered under her eyes and in the hallows of her cheeks. There were bruises mottling her skin in various places, most notably around her throat where she'd been grabbed by Icefang. Her hair was shorter than it had been before, scorched from the ectoplasmic fires in Amity, and now stuck out in awkward angles.
God, not only did she feel like absolute shit, but she looked like it too.
Irritated, she crouched and hastily disturbed the water with her fingers to rid herself of her image.
"Holy shit," she breathed when she felt the water.
It was hot. But not too hot. She slowly submerged the rest of her body and sighed in contentment. When was the last time she'd felt such heat on her skin? In the compound, they were allowed lukewarm water for three minutes, pressed by the need to conserve both the water and the energy used to heat it.
With a contented sigh, Sam rested her head against the smooth stone wall behind her. She jumped away from it when she realized it wasn't stone at all.
"How the hell is there ice in here?" she asked aloud, gaping at the wall of ice dividing the pool and the room in a straight line.
She supposed it was to separate this bathing chamber from the others, but ice, really? Sam rolled her eyes at the ice wall. "I don't know why that bothers me so much, but it does. Like, why?"
She scoffed and approached the little pile of toiletries that Tsuel had given her along with her bundle of clothes, sniffing at a bar of floral scented soap. It must have been broken off a much larger, yeti-sized bar by the way it was shaped, and Sam chuckled at that, amused by the thought of one of the giant beasts breaking apart pieces of soap for her.
When she returned to the water, she scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
Layers upon layers of grime that she'd accumulated. Which was impressive, considering she'd been submerged in the bacta tank-thing for most of the last three days. She had so much dried dirt and blood caked into every crevice of her body that she wasn't sure she'd every be fully clean again.
Her hair was a different story. Matted to her head in different places, it took longer than she would have liked to separate the strands into something manageable enough to comb. Which, fortunately, Tsuel had provide her a small, bone-white comb that she lathered with soap and raked through her hair until no knots remained.
Satisfied with her hygiene, Sam regretfully pulled her still-aching body from the water and began to dress. The attire given to her by Tsuel was identical to the set she'd worn for dinner; except this time, she was provided with underclothes.
Damp and blissfully warm, Sam rapped her knuckles against the door.
Tsuel opened it on the first knock. "Hello, dear cub. Did you enjoy your bath?"
"Uh, yeah. Thanks," Sam said. She gestured to her pile of soiled clothing. "What do I do with these?"
The yeti waved a clawed hand. "Leave it. The foxen will take care of it."
Sam's brows knitted. "The foxen?"
As if on cue, a furry creature the size of a small dog darted from behind Tsuel and into the room, gathering her clothing in a single, efficient swoop. Sam yelped and stepped away from it, just as it noticed her presence and froze.
Its fur was white, and though it ran in on all fours it now stood bipedal, its large blue-green eyes watching her owlishly. Its snout was long and thin with a small nose that twitched rapidly. Sam marveled and its long white whiskers, the bushy tail, and the little paws that clutched her clothing.
"It looks like a fox," Sam murmured, cocking her head curiously at it. She asked it, "Do you have a name?"
The foxen blinked at her in response.
Tsuel chuckled fondly. "The foxen do not speak, but this one does appear to be taken with you. It is a good sign."
"It is?"
"Yes. It means the Far Frozen has begun to accept your presence here."
Sam didn't know what to say to that and shifted uncomfortably. Fortunately, the little foxen seemed to have concluded its assessment of her because it stuffed her clothing into a leather pack it wore on its back and hurried off on all four legs. She watched the fluffy tail flounce away until it reached a spot in a wall and disappeared into a tiny tunnel that she hadn't noticed before.
"You can expect your clothing to be returned to you later," Tsuel told her. "Come, dear cub, you must be famished."
As she walked, she paid more attention to the floor than she had before, to the little openings in rock and stone that peppered the walls. At one point, she even noticed a small set of eyes peering at her from one of the openings, refracting the light so they subtly glowed. How had she not noticed them before?
Tsuel led her to the upper levels where the air chilled considerably. She recognized many of these passageways from last night, especially the large ornate set of doors that she knew led to the chamber she'd dined in. They walked past those doors and around a corner before they entered an equally large room that Sam could immediately tell was the kitchen.
The kitchen, though cold, was still somehow cozy. Lit by flaming sconces, the room was stone mingled with touches of wood. Stone walls and wooden columns, stone floors and wooden cabinetry, arched stone ceilings and wooden joists jutting across it.
She was also surprised to see several of the foxen scampering about the room, each one dutifully performing a specific task. She gawked at the one balancing on a large wooden rolling pin, seemingly running in place so it rolled across what appeared to be dough on a marble-topped island. Another was stirring a pot of something steaming and that smelled sweet and delicious.
Sam continued to watch them in a frozen silence, and then asked, "So do they just work here?"
"In a manner, I suppose," Tsuel said, walking to the kitchen island. "The foxen are welcome to whatever they need. They forage as they cook, and never take too much. They are very balanced creatures." She grinned at the one trotting along the rolling pin. "They help us, and we provide for them. It is a fair exchange."
"Oh, I see," Sam said, unmoved from her spot in the kitchen's entrance. She hadn't been able to stop watching the foxen, mesmerized by their proficiency.
"Take a seat at the table, dear cub. We should have something prepared for you in just a moment."
Almost regretfully, Sam complied and turned to the circular table in the corner of the kitchen. It was much smaller than the one she'd dined at last night, but still large enough for numerous yeti to be seated. Sam was surprised to see several human-sized chairs in the mix of larger ones.
"Frostbite and the twins typically dine here when there are no formal meals planned," Tsuel said from across the kitchen. She'd probably noticed Sam's pause and questioning stare. "They were in here just this morning for breakfast, actually. It is a shame that you were unable to attend."
Oh yeah, such a shame. Bet we all would have loved that, Sam thought cynically while she eyed a vase of shimmery roses atop the wooden table. She was mesmerized by the way the color shifted as she moved. They appeared white from a distance, but as she approached and found her seat they seemed to shift to violet, and then to indigo when she viewed them from a different angle.
"Whoa, these are wild," Sam said, tilting her head in the opposite direction so the color shifted again, this time to red. "What are they?"
"They are pandora roses," Tsuel said casually as she assisted the foxen stirring the pot. "Danny knows how I adore unique flowers, so he makes sure to bring me some from his travels when he is able to."
"Danny?" Sam asked. She'd heard the name last night too.
"Yes, you have met him. He and Frostbreath were the ones to bring you here."
Sam blanched and felt her face heat in embarrassment. "Oh, I didn't realize his name wasn't Phantom."
Tsuel chuckled, adding a sprinkle of something from a small bowl into the pot. "It is no fault of your own. He tends to go by his surname outside of the Far Frozen."
"Surname," Sam repeated with a shake of her head. She muttered to herself, "When does everything stop being one big fever dream?"
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Sam said. "Just . . . Trying to wrap my head around—well, everything."
"I see," said Tsuel as she ladled a heap of the steaming food from the pot and into a bowl. "Well, dear cub, the food is ready. I spoke with Sleetjaw about your dietary needs and hope this is suitable for your palette. Please do let me know what changes I should make in the future should any need to be made."
When Tsuel set the bowl down on the table in front of her, Sam stared at it, dubiously at first, until she leaned forward and smelled it.
"Oh my god," Sam gasped. "This smells amazing."
Barely unable to restrain herself, Sam stirred her spoon into the bowl, relishing the steam the sprung forth and kissed her cheeks. With a contented sigh, she clasped her hands around it to soak up some of the warmth. The bowl was almost too warm—scalding, even—but she made no move to remove her hands, enjoying the way the heat seeped into her fingers.
She didn't even try to resist her smile as she inhaled the scent again. It smelled sweet, like maple and apples, with a color and consistency that resembled porridge.
The taste of it was incredible, even before Tsuel offered her a cup of a syrupy liquid that tasted surprisingly close to sugar. It had been a long time since she'd had oatmeal, but she supposed this was a close enough substitute. She groaned happily as she ate a big mouthful of it.
Across the table, Tsuel was chuckling. "I am glad you enjoy my cooking. I was unsure at first, when Frostbite first told me I would be serving a human, what you would eat." She shook her head, her smile wide. "I went a bit overboard last night with the choices. But I am glad things seemed to work out for you."
Sam almost dropped her spoon in disbelief. "Wait, you cooked everything last night?"
"I did, yes. Is there a problem?"
"Well, no. I just . . . there was a lot there . . ."
"Oh!" Tsuel was laughing again, deeply. "Yes, I am quite used to that. Dinners are held here often in the castle, so the addition of a single human was hardly an imposition. The foxen are an immense help. My, Frostbite and the twins alone can eat enough to feed an army! As I said, I am just glad we could find something you would like."
Sam nodded and went quiet as she unceremoniously wolfed down the remainder of the bowl's contents. Tusel filled her bowl again, and Sam was quick to annihilate that one, too. It was the third bowl that Sam finally slowed, her stomach nearly bursting with satisfaction.
From a chair across the table, Tsuel's head was cocked, her ears pricked forward with interest. "I must say, I am impressed with your appetite. You rival the twin cubs."
Sam felt her cheeks heat. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"No need to be sorry!" the yeti assured. "You may eat more if you need to."
"Um," Sam said, "I think I'm full, actually."
"I am glad to hear it." Tsuel stood and gestured to the kitchen island where the foxen continued to work. "I must return to prepping lunch. You may sit and relax, or you may join in the preparations. The choice is yours."
Sam watched as Tsuel rejoined the foxen with seamless efficiency. The diminutive creatures adapted to her presence instantly, their deft paws a blur of whitened grey, the silence of the kitchen punctuated by their short communicative yips to each other. Oddly fascinated, Sam rose from her chair and shuffled closer to see them better.
Tsuel had just opened the metal door to what looked like an oven, tongues of flame leaping from within, and placed a small rack of balled-up dough inside, when Sam asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Tsuel's muzzle curled into a grin, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Would you like to help?"
Sam halted in her steps. She bit her lip, scuffing the toe of her shoe into the stone floor. She was so far out of her fucking element that it was actually insane. She could feel Tsuel's eyes on her, waiting for an answer.
"I want to do something," Sam said at last. "But . . ."
"But what, dear cub?"
"I don't really know how to help." Sam wound her arms around her waist, still unable to meet Tsuel's eye. "We don't really have . . . stuff like this back home."
"Stuff like this?"
"Food," Sam said, laughing awkwardly. "Most of what we eat is overly processed garbage. I'm not even sure how they make it, honestly. Not sure I wanna know either."
Tsuel was quiet, and when Sam tentatively glanced up at her she was mortified to see pity shimmering in the yeti's golden eyes. The familiar defensiveness sparked within her and she scowled. "It's not a big deal," she snapped.
She'd just turned to retreat to her seat at the table when Tsuel said, "Come here, young cub. I will show you."
Sam spun on her heel. "Show me what?"
Tsuel merely gestured to the floured dough she was folding, grinning patiently.
Sam hesitated. Playing the game needed to survive was one thing, but somehow, she felt like she might be going a bit too far. Tsuel was nice. Too nice. The warmth of her personality seemed to overshadow Sam's instincts, pushing her resolve and grit onto the backburner. The yeti's friendliness was disarming enough that Sam wasn't sure how to react.
Was it all a ruse? She wasn't sure.
Her cheeks still tinged with red, Sam made her decision and joined the yeti at the kitchen island. She tried not to gawk at Tsuel as she'd gotten closer, but it was hard not to marvel at the sheer size of the delicate beast that waited for her. Though she was not on the same scale as Frostbite and the others, she was still massive, towering over Sam. Her long tail flicked and curled away from her so Sam would have enough room at her side.
She directed Sam through the process of folding the dough, and then how to section it off into the smaller pieces. Under Tsuel's watchful eye and subtle corrections, it wasn't long before Sam had become proficient enough to be on her own. They formed an assembly line between the two of them and the foxen, and soon enough were rewarded for their efforts when Tsuel removed the first batch of steaming rolls from the oven and set them on the counter to cool.
Tsuel nodded at her approvingly, and then drifted to the other side of the island where she began slicing a purple apple into large quarters.
"So, dear cub, how did you sleep? Were you comfortable?"
"I was fine," Sam lied. She didn't look up from the dough, her chilled fingers working diligently. "Perfectly comfortable."
Tsuel cast her a sideways look, her yellow eyes doubtful. "Are you sure? Because it appeared to me that you were shivering."
Sam froze. She thought for a moment about how best to respond, unsure how honest to be, because the last thing she wanted to do was upset her hosts. But with the way that Tsuel was looking at her, she knew that lying to her now would be moot. "I was a little chilly."
"Chilly? Did you not make a fire?"
Sam shrugged. "There wasn't any wood."
Tsuel stared at her with furrowed brows, confusion on her face. Sam stared back, uncertain. "Wood? Why would you need wood for the firestones?"
"Firestones?"
Tsuel sighed in exasperation. "Those bumbling fools," she growled. Her knife clattered forcefully onto the marble. "Did no one teach you how to use your fireplace?"
Sam felt her ears burn. "No . . .?"
Tsuel bared her teeth with a growl. "I will be having a talk with those bears later. Sam, dear cub, the firestones are activated by agitation. There should be an agitator rod hanging on the wall. Use that to rustle the stones some and they will ignite."
Sam scowled at the dough beneath her hands. "That would have been nice to know last night."
"I dare say I agree," Tsuel said, sending her a nonplussed look of her own in commiseration. Then, she scoffed and added, "Males. Bumbling fools, the lot of them."
At that, Sam snorted in genuine amusement. She was surprised how at home and welcomed she felt here in the little castle kitchen. The vibe she had with Tsuel was drastically different than it had been with any of the other yeti. She didn't feel like a monster, or something to be studied, or an enemy, or an asset—she just felt like a guest.
In fact, if it wasn't for the fur and the mouthful of razor-sharp teeth and the, well, abominable-ness, Tsuel kind of reminded her of Maddie Fenton, in a way.
Sam didn't have long to ruminate on the comparison, and what it meant that she'd even thought it in the first place, because the room's temperature began to plummet. A sudden wrongness that she was all too familiar with creeped into her veins, clawed at her from somewhere deep inside her belly, leaching away all the warmth her meal had given her. She froze in place, her heart racing.
Just as Phantom sauntered into the room.
"Good afternoon, Danny," Tsuel greeted him cheerfully, her smile widening so all her teeth were displayed. "There are several options to choose from for lunch. How has your day been so far, dear cub?"
"Busy," Phantom grumbled. "Elle and I are about to head out on a patrol." He absently stroked a tuft of fur between the ears of one of the little foxen. Several others flocked to him, their tails wagging.
"Well, I am sure Elle will appreciate the company," Tsuel said. "Though I must confess, I miss when you would spend your days here. The kitchen is much quieter without your jokes."
He chuckled at that. "I'm sorry, Tsuel. I'll try to stop in and help you with the cookies one of these days."
"Nonsense." Tsuel rolled her eyes. "Your presence, while welcomed, would leave me with no cookies to present to the others. Your father and sister would be most unpleased."
"You're not wrong." He gave Tsuel a lopsided grin. "Still, let me know if you ever need the help and I'll be here."
"That is much appreciated." Her eyes flicked past Phantom, meeting Sam's alarmed ones, and a sly grin slipped across her muzzle. Sam felt her insides twist, wishing more than ever that she could shrink into the shadows before he acknowledged her. "But unnecessary. Sam has been a great help preparing today's lunch."
Phantom's good humor evaporated at the mention of her name, his features stiffening. He spared Sam a passing glance but then did a double take when he finally looked at her. "You look . . . Different."
Sam gripped the dough so hard that it oozed from her trembling fingers. "And you still look like an asshole."
His eyes narrowed. He snatched a roll from a breadbasket and smeared it with a jam that Tsuel had prepared. "As much as I'd love to engage in some witty banter with you, Sam, I'm afraid I am needed elsewhere today."
Tsuel was looking between them with an amused expression on her face. She quietly sipped a cup of steaming liquid as she watched, with several of the foxen ambling over to join her.
"I can't tell you how sad that makes me, really," Sam quipped with a roll of her eyes. "Got any other helpless humans you need to kidnap?"
Phantom snorted. "Are you implying that you're helpless?"
"No," Sam hissed in embarrassment. Then something occurred to her, and she smiled wolfishly. "Are you implying that you're actually going to kidnap someone else?"
"Touché." He gave her a sour look, then said, "We're off to a bad start. Good afternoon, Sam."
"Oh, fuck off."
He continued to stare at her, the unnerving acidic glint of his gaze bothering the absolute hell out of her, before he relented with a sigh and turned to Tsuel instead. "I will see you both later, I suppose."
"We will see you for dinner," Tsuel agreed. She wrapped up some of the rolls and pieces of fruit into a square of fabric and handed it to Phantom, grinning fondly at him. "Make sure Ellie eats something, would you, dear cub? She gets so engaged in her duties that she often forgets to sustain herself."
"Of course, Tsuel," Phantom said gratefully. "You know how she loves your rolls."
Tsuel laughed. "That I do."
Danny grinned back at her, but his eyes flicked to Sam again, the churning ectoplasmic green quickly freezing to ice as he eyed her suspiciously. Sam gritted her teeth but refused to look at him, her shoulders tensing and rising to her ears.
Without another word, Phantom left.
Sam released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, free of that uncanny feeling that always seemed to settle within her in his presence. She frowned at her hands where she'd absolutely pulverized a lump of dough.
"You will get used to it," Tsuel said then.
"Used to what?"
"That feeling that follows the twins. And all ghosts, really." Tsuel's expression was thoughtful as she stared at the doorway Phantom had disappeared through. "It takes time, but the fear resides. I am surprised that you are so affected by it, though. Humans are not normally so aware of spiritual auras."
"Spiritual . . . Auras?" Sam frowned as something else occurred to her. "And what do you mean when you say humans aren't normally aware? I thought you guys haven't been around any?"
The dishes that Tsuel had started on clattered suddenly as she fumbled and dropped some. Sam could see her large, furred shoulders hike to her ears. "Frostbite would not like me talking to you about this, dear cub," she murmured, "so pardon my lapse. I tend to be a bit exuberant."
Sam tried to ignore the whispering chill that crept up her spine. She knew then that there had to be history between the yeti and the humans. But why would Frostbite want her kept in the dark? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, not with the way that Tsuel seemed to become incredibly nervous.
Something else occurred to her then. Tsuel was a lot less guarded than the other yeti, and she couldn't help but wonder if she lacked the same court training as the others. Where everyone else was a game of chess, Tsuel was an open book.
Perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Sam bit her lip to stifle her smirk.
"So, are you, like, a servant for Frostbite, or something?" she asked.
"Hardly," Tsuel said with a snort. "I just cook for him and the cubs. I was a caretaker for the children when they were growing up. But because they liked my cooking so much, Frostbite decided to keep me with them. I would have stayed longer last night to meet you after dinner, but I was required elsewhere."
"The children? You mean—?"
"Danny and Ellie, yes."
Sam felt the world fall away from her feet. She had to brace herself with a steadying hand on the counter as she digested this newest piece of information. How could ghosts be children? Maddie had never once mentioned such a possibility, not in all the lectures she'd given Sam on ectobiology over the years. It just didn't make any sense. What did they grow up from? Puddles of unformed ectoplasm?
As much as she appreciated Tsuel's openness, Sam was beginning to wonder if the constant truth bombs were becoming a hazard for her health. She wasn't sure her heart could take much more of them.
"Greetings, Frostbite!" Tsuel said so suddenly that Sam jolted from the counter in alarm.
Sam whipped around, just as Frostbite lumbered into the room, ducking a little to avoid catching his horns on the wooden frame of the entryway.
"Greetings, Tsuel. Sam," Frostbite said. "It was a shame, Sam, that you were unable to attend breakfast this morning with the children and I."
Sam grimaced. "Yeah, a shame," she deadpanned.
"I trust you slept well?"
"Yup."
Tsuel scoffed then. "She most certainly did not," she admonished, much to Sam's horror. She dropped the pan she'd been washing into the basin and crossed her furred arms, her golden eyes full of fire. "I have a bone to pick with you, Frostbite."
Frostbite's eyes widened, but he appeared bemused. "Oh?"
"Why did no one bother to teach Sam how to properly use her firestones? The poor dear was shivering wreck when I called upon her this morning." Tsuel sniffed and rapped her claws against the metal basin. "Shame on you."
"I did not realize that she was not informed." He turned to Sam then. "Did Frostbreath not show you?"
Sam felt her face heat under the weight of their gazes. She shrugged. "He might have told me, honestly, I didn't quite catch everything in the info dump. The guy really likes to talk."
Tsuel scoffed again. "Someone should have showed her, Frostbite. Did you learn nothing from when the twins were little? If you recall, they struggled with thermoregulation for years before—"
"You are quite right, Tsuel," Frostbite said in a forceful tone that had an edge to it. Tsuel, to her credit, heeded his subtle command and nodded, though her tail still flicked angrily. "Sam, I am sorry that your first night was unpleasant. I trust Tsuel has since informed you on how the firestones function?"
"I—yes," Sam said, glancing between the two yetis. "Poke them with the stick."
"Indeed," Frostbite said. His earlier mirth had vanished. He looked between Sam and Tsuel somewhat warily. "Sam, I confess that I have actually come to retrieve you."
Sam hid her grimace with a downward glance at her hands. So much for her peaceful day. "Okay. What about the kitchen?"
"Tsuel will handle it well, I am sure."
"Indeed, dear cub," Tsuel said a little too brightly. "It is no trouble for the foxen and I to finish up. I am much obliged for the help at all."
Sam sighed in resignation. "Lead the way, Mr. Snowman."
She followed Frostbite through a new set of passageways she'd had yet to travel. They seemed to ascend in elevation, higher and higher until a rounded wooden door with gleaming silver filagree appeared at the crest of an icy bend.
The first thing that Sam noted upon entering was the fireplace. She was beginning to recognize the sweeping whorled carvings peppered with shimmery gemstones that must be customary of the Far Frozen. A bright, roaring fire crackled from within, the stones that fueled it cherry red instead of ebony like they'd been in her own fireplace.
The room was elliptical in shape, lined with icy shelves that were packed with hundreds upon hundreds of thick leather-bound tomes and scrolls. Sam gaped at them openly, her eyes roaming the titles but not recognizing any of the languages that she saw in swooping letters on their spines. Other oddities in the form of artifacts and ancient relics could be seen on some of the higher shelves.
Sam stepped further into the room, eyeing the three rocking chairs that formed a semicircle around the fireplace.
Frostbite gestured to one of the smaller chairs. "You may sit."
Sam did, tucking her legs so she sat cross-legged in the chair. She splayed her fingers to the fire and sighed happily as the warmth lapped at her hands.
"I see you have made a friend," Frostbite stated.
"You could say that." Sam replied stiffly. She didn't like the suspicion she heard in his voice. Fucking asshole. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
Frostbite studied her, his ruby irises bright with the light of the flames, though his face remained in shadow. "Hm."
Sam gaped at him, incredulous. "What do you want from me, dude?"
He arched a brow. "I beg your pardon, human child?"
"I mean," Sam ground out through clenched teeth. "I spent all morning with her. I was good. I played your little game and guess what, you win, she is nice. So fucking nice. I don't know if you guys are playing tricks on me or not, but I don't have a single problem with her."
Frostbite leaned back in his chair and steepled his claws. "I am not sure what I have done to upset you, Sam, but it is not my intention to incite your ire. Tsuel is nice because you are our guest."
"Then why do you keep looking at me like that," Sam snapped.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm about to, oh I don't know, go on a murdering rampage." Sam glared at him. "Isn't that Phantom's job?"
"My son's?" Frostbite was bewildered. "What has he done besides assist in the saving of your life?"
"You really don't know?" Sam almost laughed. "He destroyed the largest ghost research facility left. Not that I'm normally a fan of government agencies, but it was something—something to help fight them."
The dark shadows on Frostbite's face seemed to flicker and darken. Her fingers dug into the wooden arms of her chair as his lip curled to reveal several of his sharp fangs. "And do you know, human girl, what kind of research was being done in those labs?"
"Well, no, but—"
Frostbite raised a clawed hand to silence her.
She didn't know what reaction she expected from the giant creature, but the slow, creaking rock of his chair was not it. He stared pensively at her, his brows furrowing as the long, drawn out groans of his chair filled the silence between them.
"There is much you do not know," Frostbite said at last. "And I must admit, I am hesitant to see you learn too much too fast. Especially when we have yet to confirm that you are truly The One."
There it was again. Sam frowned, irritated by the cryptic runaround. "Why do you guys keep calling me that? What does it mean?"
"It means that something long prophesied in the Ancient Writings will soon come to pass."
"Thanks, that really cleared things up," Sam deadpanned. "Care to elaborate?"
Frostbite stared at her in silence. Sam stared back, her temper beginning to flare again. The room had become so obscenely silent that Sam could literally hear herself breathing. Even the pops and crackles of fire churning within the hearth seemed to ebb, coinciding with the blanket of eerie coldness that began to settle upon the room. Her eyes flicked past Frostbite and to the fire, wondering why the warmth had dissipated so suddenly.
Her breath hitched.
Flames that had once curled and twisted in a rhythmic dance of heat and light were now frozen into place, unmoving.
"What the hell," Sam gasped, bolting upright.
She eyed Frostbite in alarm. He remained silent, and just as motionless as the hearth of frozen fire in the gleaming jewel encrusted hearth.
The orange glow of firelight still bathed the room, though the light no longer flickered. She shivered in the absence of warmth.
And then, like an eerie whisper of the wind, a voice called out her name.
"Samantha Manson."
Sam jumped from her seat, her head whipping around for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" she demanded.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis, became a muddled mess of color and distorted shapes that she could no longer make sense of. She scrubbed at her eyes frantically. But it was no use. Everything was blurred and unrecognizable.
She reached blindly, only for her fingers to brush against the wooden back of her chair. And even then, the polished wood at her fingertips felt . . . Wrong. Like it was too far away. Muffled somehow, like trying to hear through a wall.
The voice spoke again. "Hello, Samantha."
Her head turned to where she thought she heard the voice, and she squinted.
Her eyes widened.
As if from a dream, a figure began to materialize from the bright orange light of the unmoving fire. It started first as light condensing into a solid form. Then, the sunset orange darkened and bled into purple, cascading to the floor to form a cloak and jolted upwards into a staff. Sam began blinking rapidly, and the figure only seemed to become more and more clear until she wasn't exactly sure when or how it happened but she could see it now, fully.
Simmering red eyes gleamed from beneath a cloaked hood, though Sam could still see the pale blueness of its skin, a frightening contrast to the warm light of the fire. Its features remained obscure. No matter how hard she stared, she couldn't make sense of it. Or the glittering gold and silver grandfather clock encased in a prism within its chest. A smaller clock adorned its glowing staff, ornate and beautiful.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"I am Clockwork," the creature—was it a ghost? She wasn't sure—said in a deep, timeless voice. "The Guardian of Time."
Sam felt herself start. She'd heard that title referenced before. Several times, actually. First, in that icy chamber outside of the medical sector where Icefang had been out for her blood, calling the Time Guardian a fool. And second, at dinner, when Frostbite's subjects had argued amongst themselves in her regard.
"What do you want, Clockwork?" she snapped, backing away as the being floated—fucking floated—towards her. That's when she realized that instead of legs, the creature had a long, wispy tail that seemed to undulate like the flame of a candle.
Clockwork was now hovering so close that she could see herself reflected in the depthless red pools of its eyes. Her eyebrows rose as it flickered then, and suddenly a long, white beard flowed down its chest and obscured the grandfather clock ticking from within the prism. And now, the creature was ancient. Aged, somehow, within a blink of her eye.
She blinked again. Now the face of a child, rounded with youth, peered down at her from beneath the hood of a too large cloak.
"I am merely here to see if the step stones of the time stream are beginning to align," Clockwork said in its eerie voice.
"Great. You're just as vague as the other guy," Sam said with a groan.
Clockwork, who had somehow aged again and reverted to its original form, smiled. "It is nice to finally meet you, Sam."
"What—?" she started to say.
Clockwork cut her off when it slammed its staff onto the ground, causing the small clock adorned at its peak to chime with an otherworldly melody that she felt thrumming through every one of her nerve endings. The sound cleaved the silent world and everything resumed all at once.
The fire crackled again with the return of its warmth.
Frostbite's chair resumed its creaking rock but stopped short as the yeti's eyes homed in on Clockwork, a single brow raised.
The Time Guardian was already beginning to dissipate. Its features were quickly becoming more and more obscure, fading away into translucence, but not before the strange ethereal creature turned to Frostbite and gave the yeti king a single, definitive nod. And then was gone.
"What the hell was that?!" Sam demanded. She stared wildly at the spot that Clockwork had been only seconds ago.
Frostbite was watching her again, but this time in wonder. His eyes were wide and his breath hitched within his great chest. "Ancients," he breathed, "I was right." The ice of his arm glinted in the firelight as he brushed a clawed hand through the fur at the base of his horns. "It really is you. You are The One."
Sam felt her temper rise once again. It flared hotter than the tall flames winking at her in the fireplace. "Do you ever stop speaking in riddles? What the hell is going on? What does that mean?" She gestured to the spot that Clockwork had just dematerialized from. "And who—or what—was that?"
"Please sit, human girl, we have much to discuss."
Sam shook her head and grumbled under her breath but did as he asked. Once seated with one leg crossed over the other so a single foot could tap angrily on the floor, she narrowed her eyes at him.
"There is a prophecy," Frostbite began, just as Sam groaned, "that in its time of need, the Infinite Realms will become united against a common adversary. In doing so, all the wrongs of the universe shall become righted, and thus the very fabric of time and matter will be healed."
"Okay," Sam drawled, annoyed, "and what exactly does this have to do with me?"
"I am afraid it is not for me to say, human girl."
Sam threw her hands. "Are you kidding me, dude?"
Frostbite grinned ruefully. "When you are ready, I will take you to the Cave of Writings, and it is there that you will see for yourself what your destiny is. It is not my place to tell you. The Writings you will be shown may be different than those I have seen for myself."
She felt her eye twitch at his cryptic nonsense. Raking a hand through her hair, she growled, "So where is this Cave of Bullshit located?"
"Cave of Writings," Frostbite corrected. "It is located at the summit of Cinomrah."
"Wait, wait, wait," Sam said. "Hold up. Summit? So, like, a mountain?"
Frostbite blinked. "Yes. A mountain."
"There are mountains here?"
"Indeed, there are." With a metal rod, Frostbite stoked the blackening stones inside the fireplace. The waning embers seemed to bristle as a result, burning hotter and brighter. "Cinomrah is the tallest of the ones that surround this kingdom, and the last one before the Frozen Sea."
"There's a sea?" Her voice jumped an octave, practically hysterical.
Frostbite eyed her in concern. "Sam, are you alright? Must I call for Sleetjaw?"
Sam shook her head rapidly. "Nonono, I'm good, I'm just . . ." She struggled to find the right word. "Overwhelmed, I guess."
Frostbite nodded. "It is quite alright. I can see why this would be daunting for you."
"Now that's an understatement," Sam sighed, leaning back into her chair. It couldn't be later than midday but she was utterly exhausted. "So what happens now?"
"As I said, Sam, you have much to learn, and I have much to teach you. While I cannot speak on the details of the path you must walk, I can say that it is a great honor to be a part of your journey." The light in Frostbite's eyes danced. "I am truly humbled. The Fates have favored us all."
A wrinkle formed between Sam's brows. "And should I even bother asking what that means?"
Frostbite laughed jovially. "Probably not."
"Yep," Sam nodded with a sigh. "That tracks."
Frostbite stood then. His gargantuan form towered above her, eclipsing the light and casting her in shadow. He extended his furred hand towards her. "I had originally intended for our lessons to start today, but perhaps it would be best for you to see the kingdom first. Now that I know you are indeed who I thought you were, I believe it is a good time to introduce you to my subjects."
Sam swallowed her climbing unease. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
"Nonsense," Frostbite said brightly. "My people will be delighted to meet you."
"Somehow, I doubt that," Sam muttered, but followed him anyway as he led her through the castle.
She about fell to her knees with joy when she spotted the windows.
They were tall and arched with twisted frames of decorative ice curled around them. And there were so, so many of them. They lined her vison, expanding far and wide in a marvelous splendor. Sam's heart swelled and leapt excitedly as her eyes traced the colorful patterns in the glass. Bright rays of sunlight streamed through them, bathing her in a rainbowed wash of color. So consumed by the sight of the sun and hints of blue sky peaking at her from the clear pieces of glass, she barely noticed the majestic beaty of the parlor Frostbite had led her through.
And when Frostbite pushed open one of the giant frozen doors and it groaned wide, she felt her breath of surprise catch in her throat and bubble down into her chest where her heart thundered. Cold wind rushed across her face, made the little flyaway strands of her hair tickle her nose. But she didn't care.
Last night she'd believed she'd been dragged into a frozen wasteland, forced to spend her days shrouded in cold and darkness.
She'd been wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Frostbite grinned at her shocked expression, his ruby eyes vibrant in the intense sunlight.
Then he told her, "Welcome to Ec'Nelis."
A/N: Things are really going to start picking up now! Please leave some feedback if you have the time. It always means the world to me.