The cold of Iceland was not merely a climate; it was a manifestation of my will.
I stood upon the balcony of the Glacial Spire, looking out over the jagged, white expanse of my domain. In the Eternal Sky Realm, my territory was a fortress of frost, a floating continent of permafrost and diamond-hard ice that most feared to even approach. Below me, the sprawling city of Isgard hummed with the silent, rhythmic industry of a people carved from the cold.
The air was still, save for the faint, shimmering frost that drifted from my skin. I felt stronger than I ever had. The Primordial Battlefield had changed me, tempered me like steel plunged into a frozen lake. But more than that, it had healed a hole in my heart that I had carried for years.
"You've been staring at the horizon for an hour, Bella. If you're trying to freeze the sky, you're halfway there."
