frozen lake
The lake is clear and icy and so, so blue – the figure standing delicately at its edge seems to glow with a halo of white. As they step forward, the ice bows but does not break.
“Where to now?” the figure muses. Their voices shivers and stills in the chilly winter air. The same cold nips at the figure’s fingers, threatening to whisk away a delicate piece of white parchment tucked away amongst reddening fingers.
The figure senses something. The parchment is tucked away into a pocket; the now empty fingers grasp the hilt of a crystalline hilted dagger. The figure turns, gently, carefully, but a sudden wind whips their hood back in a movement too fast for them to catch.
“It is you,” breathes a voice. A young girl appears out of seemingly thin air – air that is shimmering like smoke, air that is not obeying the call of the wind.
The figure by the lake sucks in a sharp breath. The dagger is drawn out of its sheath to reveal a blade that screams sharp. Even the lake bows to it. Reluctantly, but the soft creaking of the ice says it all.
The girl retreats a few steps, eyeing the dagger wearily. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she says. Her palms lift upwards. She has pale, pale, skin. Her face, apart from the tip of her long nose, looks as cold and unfeeling as the moon, shining above them despite the bright blue sky. Yet she seems to burn brighter than the sun – fiery and just as dangerous.
The first figure tightens their grip on the dagger. With a swift movement, it’s fully unsheathed.
The girl runs backwards, her eyes never leaving it. She trips over something unseen, and when she gets up, her hands are lifted again. Her eyes, shadowed by her hood as to hide their color, are filled with fear.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she tries again.
The figure points the dagger outward. “I don’t know that.” They step further out onto the lake. Their boots click against the ice. The silence in between each step is yawning.
“Don’t go,” the girl says, desperation edging her voice. Her still lifted hands are trembling now, though the cold has died down. Her gaze never leaves the dagger, or the person holding it. “Please. I can explain.”
The figure shakes their head. “I don’t want your explanations.” They turn halfway, until they are facing the vast expanse of the frozen lake. They finger the dagger’s hilt, as if in thought, though the set of their shoulders tells the girl all she needs to know. “I don’t need your explanations.”
The girl cries out as the figure makes the first true steps away. Purposeful, striding, with no sign of the wavering taking hold of the girl.
She stumbles to the edge of the lake, falling to her knees. “Please, Estelle, don’t do this.”
Estelle pauses. They sheath their dagger in one fluid movement, whipping around until they are a mere step away from the girl. With a delicate yet trembling hand, they lift the girl’s chin until her hood falls away to reveal shimmering purple eyes. They twirl with a thousand different faces in the light.
Estelle must recognize the crystal eyes, for their hand falls away as if burnt. After a long moment, they reach for their dagger again – and the girl scrambles away, onto the packed snow and away from the blue shine of ice. She draws her hood up again.
“Amryze,” Estelle whispers. Their voice turns bitter. “I should have known.”
Amryze keeps her gaze on the dagger as she replies. “I told you I can explain. Give me a chance, Estelle, and I promise you I will tell you everything.”
“I don’t want your promises.” The bitterness in Estelle’s voice has spread to their smile, and it creeps down into their stance like frost spreading across open water.
Amryze clasps her hands together. She’s not hopeful, but the desperation in her voice has leeched away. If her eyes were bursting with color, they’d be sparking with a thousand shades – though for anger or resignation, or the devasting sting of failure is unknown.
When it’s clear Amryze has said all she needs to, Estelle turns away. They take one step onto the frozen lake, then hesitate for a brief moment. A spasm, a twitch, and the dagger slides neatly into its sheath.
They turn over their shoulder, revealing green eyes just as bright and unnatural as Amryze’s own. Brunette hair spills out from under their hood, but Amryze’s gaze is fixed firmly on those eyes. She lowers her own hood. Estelle flinches.
They sigh. “Thank you, princess. For finding me. But I do not need your apologies or promises, gilded cages wrapped in layers of your magic.”
Amryze hauls herself to her feet. “Estelle.” She hesitates. “Sister. Please reconsider.”
“This is why I’m leaving,” Estelle says. They turn fully, taking a deep breath, seeming to relish the cold winter wind as it reappears, twining around the two and their cloaks.
“Please,” Amryze repeats, though her heart has left her voice.
Estelle doesn’t answer. They start their stride across the frozen pond once more, bathed in the soft blue glow of the ice. Their strides are sure once more.
This time, they don’t turn back.