The guards’ charge is cut short as they begin slipping on the frost forming beneath their feet. One guard falls face-first onto the rocky floor, while the other stumbles but manages to stay on his feet.

I step back from Laura as her frost creeps toward me, making my toes ache from the cold. Laura stands still, completely unfazed by her own power. In fact, she hasn’t moved a muscle. Either she’s showing off, or she can’t move.

Her magic is raw and unrefined, messy and unpredictable. The crystals forming on the floor are irregular in size and shape. If the remaining guard manages to so much as touch her, we’re in trouble. Luckily, the guards haven’t figured that out yet.

I dash to the courtyard and start scavenging for the biggest stones I can find. The gravel path leading to the fountain is a lifesaver. I stuff my robe pockets as quickly as I can and sprint back.

The guard is inching closer and closer to Laura; a few more steps, and he’ll be within arm’s reach. The other guard is still on the floor, struggling to get up as the ice clings him down. If I can make the standing guard fall, we’ll have the time we need to escape.

I have to act fast. The problem is, Laura is standing directly in front of the guard. If I throw the stones from where I am, I’ll likely hit her, breaking her concentration. But if I step into the hall, the icy floor will trap me just as it did him.

Laura is visibly shaking. Either the cold is getting to her, or she’s afraid. I need to think fast. I don’t know what will happen once her concentration is gone, if the ice will disappear or stay. I can’t ask Laura right now. I yell

“Stay put, I’ll think of something!” As expected, she doesn’t respond.

Her ice is spreading slowly, maybe slow enough. Without thinking twice, I step back and start running toward the room. I jump and slide toward the left wall. It’s frozen too, so I brace myself with my foot against it. At least I have shoes on—better than tearing up my skin on the ice.

I grab the stones from my pockets and start hurling them at the guard. He stumbles but stays on his feet. A stubborn bastard.

“Fall, you moron!” I yell.

He shouts a profanity back.

My feet are starting to freeze to the floor—if I don’t move, I’ll be stuck. The guard is still stumbling, trying to regain what little balance he has. A reckless idea pops into my head.

I kick off from the wall, sliding toward him. When I reach him, I shove him down with my hands. He falls, and his backside instantly freezes to the floor.

I continue sliding, now off balance myself, toward the other side of the room. I extend my hand, coating it with a thin layer of Red Water. As I make contact with the wall, pain sears through me—partly from the impact, partly from the cold.

But it works. The pain is unbearable, but I release my grip immediately, and thanks to the Red Water, I’m not glued to the wall. It hurts like hell, but at least my skin is still attached to my hands.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The guards scream in pain, likely from frostbite. It hurts to hear another in such agony, but it’s us or them. Shivers run down my spine as I realize I may have permanently scarred that man. I can barely feel my own toes; it wouldn’t surprise me if theirs are already blackened.

Laura looks at me, her expression full of concern.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine. Do you need help getting out?” I reply.

She picks up one of the stones I threw and begins chipping away at the ice around her feet. She was stuck too, but the cold doesn’t seem to faze her.

“Much appreciated!” she says.

The moment she speaks, the ice loses its deadly chill, now just as cold as regular ice. I can safely waddle toward her to help free her.

I reach her and grab her hands for balance. With a few swift but powerful kicks, I manage to free one of her legs, then do the same with the other.

Hand in hand, we make our way to the courtyard. I glance back at the struggling guards—their feet, hands, and backsides frozen to the floor. They have no chance of escaping on their own, not until the ice melts.

The fire has spread significantly; smoke is now visible in the courtyard. At this rate, we’ll need to hold our breaths to make it to the back door.

We dash past the fountain, heading for the exit, when a familiar voice calls out.

“Spare a minute, will you?” says an old voice.

We halt and turn toward the sound. Sitting on a bench near the fountain is a familiar figure—an old man in ornate robes. He looks at us, then glances back toward the hall we just came from. It’s the high priest.

I freeze as Laura steps instinctively in front of me, her body tense as ice begins to spread from her feet once more. The old man looks us over, then lets out a laugh.

“I won’t stop you,” he says.

What? Laura recoils, retracting her magic. I’m just as stunned.

“What do you mean?” I blurt out.

“I was against the summoning from the start.” He pauses, then continues “I believed that the war could be won without the help of a hero. But they wouldn’t have it, the prophecy must be fulfilled, they said.”

“Does Red Frost disgust you that much? So much so that you would forgo what took decades to prepare” Laura lets out, her voice shaking.

The high priest takes a deep breath, as if savioring the smoke-filled air.

“The Goddess has her ways of blessing us. Strength, intellect,” He pauses “, magic. It’s not for me, or anytone, for that matter, to judge what she gifts her children” He answers.

“So what now—will you just let us go?” I ask.

“I feel no hostility towards you two. Steponas, I’m sorry for dragging you into this world. Laura, I’m sorry for casting you aside. I’m a pushover, you see—I’ll do whatever it takes to keep people happy, even if it’s not always the right thing.”

“What about you? The fire’s getting close,” I say, glancing at the flames now visible on the second floor.

He holds out his hand, and a blue flame appears in his palm. Small and bright, its beauty is strangely hypnotic.

“I may be old, but a simple fire won’t do me in. Besides, they’re probably desperately searching for the missing high priest,” he says, closing his hand and extinguishing the flame, snapping me out of my trance.

“Let’s go—he’ll be fine,” Laura nudges me.

We plunge into the smoke, holding our breaths. It’s hard to see, but we hold hands, and I trust Laura to lead me. My eyes sting, and I’m running out of breath, but we finally reach the door. Laura tries to open it, but to our horror, it’s locked.

I gently push her aside and kneel down to the lock. Placing my finger near the keyhole, I summon Red Water. I fill the lock, feeling its inner workings—pins and all.

Working backwards, I set each pin with my red tendrils. Click, click, click, and the door unlocks. We’re outside.

We reach the fence, and I lift Laura over it with ease—her light frame is no match for my newfound strength. I doubt a few days of training did much, but I can’t help but feel this escape would have been tougher if I couldn’t manage nine push-ups.

Being taller, I climb over the fence without assistance. We land in a narrow alley, and for the first time since I was summoned into this world, I’m outside the cathedral.