The cold was a part of him. It surged through him to the rhythm of the radiance in his palm, as if it were a storm brewing inside of him. It glinted off the crown of icicles nestled on his head; off the walls caging him in like a prison; off the book-cluttered stone table. The cold was him. The cold was Kori.

What he held was the key to it all.

The light fizzled into the stone void around him; who would have thought that regal majesty adorned the rooms above him? 

Sparks zipped into the wall; winds scuttled about him; a chill sliced the air. Here, in the chaos, he had control. 

His fellow ice-born named it forbidden; he called it potential. There was a reason the spell was still recorded in the most ancient of tomes—the same ones that littered the rough-hewn table in the center of the cavern.

Kori grinned, the frigid air clinging to him.

“Nice light show,” the ashen cat in the corner deadpanned, ruffling his wings. “You’d think you were trying to impress a certain someone.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” The thought of his beloved sent a warmth that melted the spell—for a moment. “She’d be impressed, unlike a certain winged someone.”

“I don’t know. That might be a bit too sparkly for her tastes.” Spike—the cat—padded over, casting a disdainful glance at the frost-covered books splayed out on the table. “I never expected His Iciness to be into glitter in the first place.”

Kori ran his fingers over the pages of the volumes, smoothing out a wrinkled drawing of his ice-born ancestor. Said figure held hands outstretched, sending a flurry of power out to a crowd of submissive subjects—the ideal. “It’s not sparkles.”

“Right. It’s a magic known only to arrogant megalomaniacs. There’s a clear and obvious difference.”

Kori glared into the shadows, holding the light to illuminate the columns of ice clinging to the walls, arching up into the shadowy ceiling. The light dribbled over the sheening surface. “What would you know, anyway?” He straightened his gilded collar with his free hand, dusting off his shadowy cape as well—the only two items he wore that were not deathly pale like himself.  “I’ll show you. Bring Yuki here and watch. She’ll be proud.” The room darkened as he lowered his hand, light still searing the darkness with a vehemence as the spell worked inside of him; his crown of icicles pressed into his forehead. “They all will.”

“You think she hasn’t been waiting outside this whole time?”

Kori blinked, almost losing his control on the spell. “What?”

Spike arched his wings. “His Iciness has been obsessing over his glitter light for hours.”

All those hours were necessary to perfect my masterpiece. “Never mind. Bring her in, while I can still hold the magic.” A chilly ache seeped through him. Only a little longer.

Spike grumbled something about mistreating house pets while reluctantly venturing to open the doors. The behemoth slabs of stone grated open with the elegance of nails on a chalkboard.

Then wintry light from outside—to rival the light in Kori’s hand—barged through; darkness shriveled back, leaving Kori exposed in the lack of shadows. But the doors slammed shut soon again, the only sound the feather falls of Yuki’s footsteps.

The half-human angel of his dreams had arrived. Draped in pearly silk, porcelain face flushed from constant cold, and gliding through the room as if floating—Kori gritted his teeth as he forced his attention back on the spell. No need to get distracted so early in the process.

In the dim light, a few paces back from him, Yuki looked up and her dark eyes—a color no true ice-born could ever possess—widened. Only a half-human would feel such emotion. “That’s not—”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He held up the undulating sphere of light so she could gaze upon it in all its majesty—pure power. White like fresh snow; frigid like the bitterest of winters. All this potential and the ancient ice-born banned it. What fools. The cold echoed through his veins, the light quivering as if it were a flame being quenched. Wincing, Kori flashed a grin as the frosty glare revived. “Several years of effort. And it’ll save me several more.”

Yuki shook her head, her ebony hair straying in front of her like a curtain. Were her eyes glistening? Of course they were. She was proud, just like she should be.

“What does it do?” she whispered, as if she already knew the answer.

“Ah, I can’t spoil the surprise yet.” He smirked, leaning against the table, half trembling, the wintry spell seeping into his skin. “You’ll see.”

Yuki muttered some word of admiration under her breath before saying out loud, “It’s nothing dangerous, is it?”

“Since when have I ever done anything dangerous?”

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” She backed away, toward the sliver of light piercing between the mammoth doors; his beloved Yuki retreated as to put further distance between them. Strange. “You’re losing it.”

“Since when?” He narrowed his eyes.

She had changed—I suppose I have as well, but for the better—and looked rather timid against the cavernous walls around her. Was she fidgeting as well?

“Since—” She gestured to his crown. The light in Kori’s palm glared brighter, flickering on the tears streaking Yuki’s face.

She’s like Spike. Obnoxiously clueless. Kori clenched his fists, mustering just enough strength to stand up tall—a foot above his meager beloved. “You know nothing,” he spat. The cold inside him nearly sent him reeling. He grit his teeth. “You’re weak. Human.” He stumbled toward her. “Your emotions control you. I used to mind the fact that you weren’t a pureblood, strong like me, but now—”

Yuki bit her lip. “I fell in love with Kori. The real Kori.” She sucked in a breath. “What will make you see that?”

The icy spell dimmed around them.

Kori staggered to the walls, clutching his side. “This is the real me.”

“No.” Yuki flung open the doors. Light crashed into the secret cove. “You’re a monster!”

***

Yuki was wrong.

Evening cast the halls of ice in a halo of convivial sunlight. Every crystalline arch refracted the light; every silver platter was freshly polished and proud of it. Fanciful aromas plagued every corner of the room—of herbs and berries and much game, as well as the other delicacies lining the table. Murmurs of those with ice-born blood arose; the swords behind the masks of joy echoed around Kori.

“I heard he was born half-dead,” a lady gossiped with her partner as she critiqued an adorning bouquet of aconites, the both of them smothering their giggles.

“Young folks these days.” A stout fellow adjusted the aquamarine ring on his pale finger, glancing up and down the overly decked table. “Bit extravagant for mere notices.”

Another lady—fully ice-born by her lavishly snowy hair and equally pale eyes—admired the wintry world adorning the forested mountain peaks around them. “Never thought I’d wish to be ruled by a human instead.”

“Not even fire could pierce his soul,” her male companion replied.

From his position at the head of the table, Kori scanned the room for his beloved, finding only the same common ice-born bedecked in far more jewels than were necessary. They’re all like her. Delusional. 

Spike leapt onto the table, suspiciously close to the roast game.

Yuki wouldn’t miss an event like this. Not after earlier. 

Unless…she was right.

How far I’ve come, just to get to this moment. Kori sighed, gazing down at his goblet, at his reflection in the iridescent liquid. His narrow eyes glared back at him like knives, framed by eyebrows scraggly like frost. He didn’t appear a day over twenty.

Perhaps the people had valid reasons for rebelling. For breaking the world Kori had erected for himself, bit by bit. Perhaps, after tonight, it would only splinter further. Perhaps this will all be for vain.

No. He straightened. The real Kori was a man of strength and prowess, not a weakling driven by doubt. Cold throbbed inside of him. He clenched his fists, stirring the power inside him.

“You have your serious face on, I see,” Spike remarked, stealing a piece of meat as if Kori wasn’t watching. “You actually think you can ‘win her over’ with your special glitter trick, don’t you?” The feline ate his fill, as if this would be the last good meal he would ever eat.

Kori shook his head, whistling at the ice- and human-born to get their attention, silencing all talk of removing him from his throne. After tonight, they won’t even dream of deposing such a powerful force. They’ll see reason.

The guests filtered toward the table, the chattering dying down to a gentle whisper as they took their seats accordingly. Yuki followed at the back of the procession, donning a facade of enjoyment that matched all the other guests’. At least she’s acting like an ice-born.

The entire table filled with his company, Kori stood at the head and offered them all the best smile he could manage despite the blustery pain searing him inside. Light flickered like snow at his fingertips.

After this, they’ll see fighting as useless. Kori raised his goblet to his lips, swirling the pearly liquid to keep up his nonchalance. “I have heard doubts among you. Those who deem me unfit to lead you all.”

Yuki glanced away.

She’ll see reason by the end. Pulling from the knot of power so carefully bundled within him, Kori ignited the spell. Light rose and wavered around his palm, dagger-like sparks dancing off. Chills rippled through his veins.

The cold and him became one— So this is what the ancients banned so long ago. Power.Pure agony surged through him, coursing through every inch of his body. He wanted to stop, but he swallowed his screams. Now was not the time to doubt the plan. Suppressing rebellion was the top priority.

“I want to prove your foolish notions wrong.” Kori held up the radiance for them to see; many gasped yet remained frozen to their seats.

Good. Fear me.

The cold danced out of him and fled over the room. His mind faded as the thrill of the spell worked its powers. By the end of the night, all would be well—not a peep out of his subjects and he, Kori, would be their worthy ruler, bringing them into an era of glory—

His daydreams were pierced by people screaming.

Cold whipped against him from all sides. The knot in his stomach constricted. Snow pricked him all over.

Snow? His mind reeled as he reviewed what all the old tomes had said—none of them mentioned a snowstorm.

Through the veil, he could faintly see his subjects—all writhing in pain as the storm overcame them. Even the full-blooded ice-borns cowered against the tumult.

Impossible. Everything was going as planned. Kori squinted through the blinding flurry, unable to move. The storm—why is it not obeying me? 

He scrambled for a grip on the tempest—had he missed an important detail in the books? The storm did not heed him. What had gone so terribly wrong?

Stones jabbed at him from all sides. What cruelty; even the weather revolts against me. He scrabbled to find some sort of hold through the catastrophe. Only the wind screamed in his ears; deafened by the noise, his hands slipped. His vision turned hoary against the turmoil, before he turned numb and it all faded to black.

Yuki cried somewhere nearby.

***

As his head throbbed to the rhythm of why, why, why, Kori could make out nothing in the darkness. The cold pulsed not only through him, but around as well; wind howled and beat against him; the shadows of night cloaked him.

Where are we?

“Oh look, His Iciness is still breathing.” Spike padded up to Kori. “I guess my vacation plans are wrecked. Again.”

Kori groaned, aching too much to sit up at the moment. “You thought of vacationing now of all times?”

“Yes. I was thinking I might actually get to see what the small forest outside the castle looked like, but you rudely interrupted those hopes by not being dead.”

The audacity of this cat. Kori squinted through the snow clouding around them. There wasn’t much to see, as an entire mountain range had been leveled around him—the white-capped spine was nothing but a flat plain of snow for a good mile or two. Only icy shards of the palace clawed out, as if to escape the tragic fate they had battled through. The dim moon cast a hazy aura around the rubble and ruin—what remained of the formidable palace.

It’s all broken.

Spike followed his gaze. “I’ll miss that place.”

“Did anyone survive?”

Spike ruffled his wings. “You think I’d know? I’m not risking my tail to go exploring, since you cursed that place with your sphere of sparkles, far as I’m concerned!”

Kori struggled to his feet; his boots—once polished to a sheen, now scuffed and dull—sank into the crunchy snow. “Magic. Spell. Anything but glitter ball.”

“Whatever you say. But if my favorite scratching post got destroyed—”

“So, Yuki might not have survived?” Kori wrapped his cape around him, anything to provide protection from the gales, no matter how feeble and ragged it may be. The winds only got colder.

“Do you need someone to scold you in her place? I’d be very happy to. Where shall we start?”

Kori gazed out at the castle ruins. Surely someone survived the storm. He staggered a few precarious steps forward.

“Wait, where are you going?” Spike bounded toward Kori, gliding through the air every few steps. “Don’t care for an honest assessment of how you’ve failed your girlfriend?”

“I didn’t fail her,” he muttered. 

“You’re a monster!” she had yelled as she ran from his presence. A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t fail her. He glared at the shadowed horizon. He had never failed her.

“Mm-hmm. I hope she didn’t survive.”

Kori’s blood ran cold. “What did you say?”

Spike arched his wings. “She’d be happier.”

“She was always happy.”

“As happy as I am, now that my vacation plans are trashed.”

Kori trudged after his cat. “I thought we were over that!”

“Guess I’ll have to wait until you make another stupid decision before I can catch a break.” 

They now stood before the jagged mess of the palace. Kori pushed away a film of snow on the ground. Beneath, a scrap from a painting he had commissioned so long ago peeked through; in it, younger versions of himself and Yuki stood side by side, casting shy smiles at each other. 

He leaned closer.

Frost and harsh conditions had cracked the paint, turning it just as broken as the world around him. Kori turned back to the rest of the rubble, other long-forgotten memories and bliss resurfacing. About to brush his hand over what didn’t poke like daggers, a cold sting lit his fingers. He backed away.

“It’s a mess.”

Spike trotted up, eyeing the tattered artwork buried in the snow. “Were you expecting your dead subjects to clean it up for you?”

Kori straightened his collar, surveying the damage—if he and Spike had survived the catastrophe, why shouldn’t anyone else have? “It’s a mess,” he repeated. Yuki could still be alive.

It likely was a vain hope, after all. Why would that delicate, weak, half-human—

She’s still half ice-born. She could fight through.

Spike nudged Kori with his wing. “Say, who’s that?”

The ice-born prince followed the cat’s gaze, squinting to make out the hunched-over figure emerging from behind a boulder-sized chunk of rubble. Silk and hoary hair trailed behind her like an aura, as if she were an angel heading toward them, despite the twisted icicle she clutched.

Yuki. She did make it out alive. His stomach twisted. Even if she looks different.

Several other figures rose behind her. Each held an icicle as twisted and marred as their faces; each stared straight at Kori. What used to be noble ice-born now trudged forward like war-torn savages, malice glinting in their eyes just as the now-glaring moonlight reflected off their weapons of ice.

Yuki led the procession, her face wavering between a sugar-sweet smile and a snarl. She used to be so dainty before…this. Her eyes—

Kori blinked. Surely they weren’t…?

Yuki’s eyes were the same pale blue color that only true ice-born had.

When she was close enough, his beloved hollered, “All hail our leader!” The other ice-born gave a whoop and a cry. Her snarl carved up into a grin. 

Kori stood up straighter. “Finally, she sees reason.” She’s not as weak as I thought her to be. He turned to Spike, who was scrambling away from the castle rubble. 

“They’ve changed.” Spike’s fur stood on end.

“There is still a kingdom!” Kori called. Why can’t that feline see that?

Yuki chuckled, twirling her icicle blade. “One you’re finally fit to lead, Prince Kori the Cruel.” Her joviality fell; frozen tears trickled down her frostbitten, shadowed cheeks—despite her skin being as livid as an ice-born’s. “Why don’t you join us?”

The world isn’t so broken after all. Kori took a step forward closer to glory regained. 

Spike yelped somewhere behind him, thrashing against the twisted ice-born pinning him down. Kori kept walking.

He could taste it; all the dreams he had ever had danced through his mind with every step—rebuilding the palace, ruling along with Yuki, not worrying about revolts—

Pain seared him. He crumpled to the hoary ground, snatching for his next breath.

Yuki stabbed her blade into the ground—perhaps with the same vehemence she had stabbed him with—and she leaned down to cradle Kori’s face in her hands. “You’re the weak one between us, monster.” Her eyes flashed, as if she felt the same spark of power Kori did when he had first fiddled with the forbidden magic.

Wind and snow as cruel as Yuki’s dagger pelted around him. The world blurred from black and white into a haze of somber gray; with his last strength, Kori grunted into the darkness:

“Have fun with your new kingdom.” He swallowed. “Yuki the Cruel.”

Skylar Rivers

When she began writing, Skylar Rivers wrote crazy sagas of fire-wielding royals and winged cats, chocolate dragons, and tornadoes driving friends apart; maturing, she wrote less of those stories and far more about stubborn royals and magical watches, formerly villainous baby dragons, and earthquakes driving friends apart. Luckily, her writing style has improved since then. She bounces between genres, but she comes back to fantasy and…interesting poetry. Find her at her blog: https://skyriverwrite.com/