“I think I know what the problem is,” I shout, sitting cross-legged on the grass, a safe distance away from Laura.

She stands motionless, the grass around her frozen and red. Her feet are encased in ice, just like they were in the cathedral against the guards.

“You’re scared,” I add.

“Of course I’m scared! You have no idea how dangerous this power is!” she yells back.

The moment she speaks, a surge of cold washes over me. She’s struggling to control it even in silence, and now her voice makes it even more unstable.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Look how far away I am!” I shout, trying to reassure her—and maybe myself.

She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. The temperature plummets further, and the ice begins to spread rapidly. This time, the crystals are more uniform and precise, but they’re also getting uncomfortably close.

“Okay, that’s enough!” I say, panic creeping into my voice.

The temperature instantly returns to normal and the crystal spread stops. Laura looks shaken, not from the cold but from fear.

“Are you okay?” She yells again.

The red crystals span a 50 feet radius, growing more dense and bigger at the edges. Laura’s body is encompassed in ice up to her waist. She can’t move.

The other problem is that this circle of red ice crystals is far too conspicuous. It’s a relatively remote area, but people do live nearby. All we can do now is hope it melts before anyone notices.

I step onto the crystalline surface and walk toward her, the jagged edges biting into my feet. At least it warms up once it’s no longer influenced by her magic—otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to step on it without enough Red Water to coat my feet.

“There has to be a way to recall it somehow,” I say, glancing around at the mess. “We can’t just leave this here.”

“I don’t think I can,” She says, wriggling.

When I experimented with Red Water, I used my scientific knowledge to manipulate it in different ways—transformation, translation, elasticity. It doesn’t feel like magic to me. Maybe the same goes for Blue Flame and Red Frost.

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“How do you summon Red Frost anyway?” I ask.

“What kind of question is that? I just do, and that’s it,” she replies.

I let out a long, stretchy Red Water tendril from my finger and spin it around like a helicopter blade.

“Red Water doesn’t feel magical to me at all. It’s like an extension of myself, like a third arm or leg,” I say. “I think your main problem is that you think of Red Frost as something you have.”

“But it is something I have! It’s a curse, damn it!” she snaps, her voice sharp with frustration.

“And that’s the problem. It’s not something you have—it’s something you are,” I say, scratching my head. “Now, how do I explain this to you…”

I pause, considering my options. I could give her a physics lesson, explain how temperature is just the speed of molecules, but I’m not confident enough to do that without confusing her even more.

“How about this,” I continue. “Try to summon Red Frost, but instead of summoning it, do the opposite.”

She stares at me, dumbfounded, then lets out a long sigh.

“Failure is part of learning. Now, come on, try to do it,” I say with conviction.

She closes her eyes and begins to breathe deeply, inhaling and exhaling in a steady rhythm. It seems to relieve the tension in her body, and by extension, her magic. The red crystals begin to shrink.

I stay silent, watching intently, letting her concentrate without interruption. The process is slow—far too slow to be practical in a real battle—but it’s a start.

Five minutes pass, and the crystals are completely gone, and so is her scowl.

“I’ll keep it in mind—about it being part of me and not something separate,” she says, pouting slightly.

“Baby steps,” I reply, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

The thought lingers in my mind. Neither of us knows much about Red Frost—its full capabilities, its limitations. A seasoned demon would, but finding one in the human realm seems impossible. Maybe the university will have some answers.

After an eventful day, we need to rest. Old man Henrik will probably want us both spry and ready by tomorrow morning. Another day of hammering awaits—I’m not sure if my arms can take much more, but strangely, I’m looking forward to it.

“Let’s get back,” I say, turning toward the woods.

I wonder how powerful her magic is compared to others. The ice circle she created was quite large, but maybe that’s just average. And this was while she was actively suppressing her power—it makes me curious how far we can push it. The potential is there, waiting to be realized.

It also makes me wonder how rare humans with demonic abilities are. Is she the only one, or are there others like her? And if so, it implies the possibility of demons with Blue Flame, likely just as ostracized as Laura is here.

I can’t help but wonder if Laura and I being together is the Goddess’s doing. She said what I do with my power is up to me, but Laura’s companionship feels a little too convenient. Why me? Why her?

Red Frost and Red Water. On the surface, they seem quite similar. My power is limited in raw strength, but it makes up for it in utility, while Red Frost—at least in Laura’s case—is powerful and untamed. Yet the clergy doesn’t seem to care about these nuances. To them, it’s all the same: unnatural, unwanted.

The clergy. Their hostility isn’t beneficial to either of us. It seems the news of my escape—or even my existence—hasn’t left the cathedral’s walls yet. The public most certainly knows of the prophecy, but the real question is: how long can they wait for a hero? And, as the high priest mentioned, do they even need one to begin with?