Chapter 1: The Ice Beneath Us

Ariella Winterwynd stood on the edge of the enchanted ice, her breath curling into mist as the frigid wind clawed at her skin. Above her, the fae moons hung low and ominous, casting a sickly light over the shimmering rink. The Aether Ice was sacred—formed from ancient magic. It spread out under the earth forming the very bedrock of Eldarwyn’s power. Here, at the rink was one of the few places it was exposed. For this reason it had become a sacred space, and this game, played by using Aether Blades to shoot small crystal pucks skittering across the ice into crystal goals was sacred as well.

The roar of the crowd echoed through the arena. Despite the festive mood, Arielle could feel the faint undercurrent of something darker, something cold that pressed against her lungs and made it harder to breathe. She had initial thought it just politics The political maneuverings of the court were playing out on the ice court. But she realized with a shiver that she didn't believe it was merely politics that threatened them now. Something far worse lurked beneath the surface, gathering forces, lying in darkness, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Whispers of dark magic had crept through the kingdom, of alliances being formed in the shadows. And in the heart of it was Lord Maelgrove, a name spoken in hushed fear. A name Arielle had learned in books where histories turned to legends and were often difficult to untangle from one another. According to these stories, his dark fae army, if unleashed, would tear through Eldarwyn like a wildfire, leaving nothing but ash.

Ariella had no intention of letting that happen. She looked up towards the mountains where dark clouds were starting to form. The late afternoon sun lit up her dark hair, falling in ebony waves over her shoulders which were cloaked in polished armor. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her aetherblade, a sleek weapon forged from the same starlight magic that pulsed through her veins.

The crowd’s roar grew louder, anticipation thick in the air as her opponent took the ice. Kaelen Blackthorn. He moved with the grace of a predator, his black uniform gleaming under the fae moons, his silver hair catching the light. His eyes—steel grey eyes that Arielle noticed shifted to green or blue depending on what was around him—were locked on her. As the approached each other on the center of the ice, her violet eyes locked on his, while his dark cloaked billowed behind him. The cloak was a dramatic, but impractical, choice she thought. She hoped he tripped over it.

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He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the chill of his shadow magic curling around him, a stark contrast to the starlight pulsing in her own veins. "You’ve always been so confident," Kaelen murmured, his voice low. "But confidence isn't enough to face what's coming."

She thought she caught a deeper meaning to his words - he wasn't talking about the tournament she didn't think. The tournament was a distraction from forces gathered in the dark, threatening to tear Eldarwyn apart. Ariella could feel it in her bones—the lurking danger, the way the shadows seemed to move at the edges of her vision. She wondered what he knew.

Before she could respond, a bell tolled—low and deep—signaling the start of the match. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Ariella’s heart pounded for another reason - although she wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline of the match or the eerie dread of whatever dark force was rising in the background. She stepped onto the ice, her heart pounding as her blade thrummed in her hand. The cold shot through her boots, the rink crackling with magic beneath her feet. She could feel the pulse of the aetherwell below, deep and ancient, a source of power.

Kaelen lined up on the opposite side of the rink, his eyes fixed on her. "Don’t hesitate, Winterwynd," he called, his voice echoing across the ice.

The bell rang again, louder this time, and the match began. Ariella surged forward, her blade cutting along the ice as she darted across the rink. Kaelen was already moving, a blur of shadow and speed, his agility as he moved the crystal puck to and fro. The energy of the crowd buzzed in her ears, but Ariella blocked it out, focusing only on the game, on the power thrumming beneath the ice.

Magic crackled in the air, and as their blades clashed, Ariella felt the force of Kaelen’s shadow power collide with her own. For a brief moment, everything else faded—the crowd, the danger, the looming threat of war—and it was just them, locked in battle.

Kaelen’s eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat, something flickered between them. Not rivalry, not hatred—but something far more dangerous.

"You're holding back," he growled, his voice low and dark as their blades clashed again on the ice. The puck skittered away, unheeded. "Why?"

Ariella glared at him, now annoyed, pushing back with all her strength. "Maybe I’m waiting for the right moment."

He smirked, but there was a sharpness to it now, a tension that hadn’t been there before. "Don’t wait too long, Winterwynd. The darkness is already closer than you think." He paused as the whistle was blown and the puck collected from where it had crossed the sidelines.

Before she could ask him what he meant, a flash of movement caught her eye—a figure in the stands, cloaked in shadow, their face hidden. The way her body responded instinctually told her this was not a normal figure. A chill ran down her spine as she realized it wasn’t just the tournament at stake anymore.

Something far worse was coming.

And they were running out of time.