Noah's POV
Lyra met my gaze, her expression soften, then smiled.
"I can, but the power is not enough," she replied with a disappointed look.
"It will grow with time Lyra," Scarlett assured her.
"Yeah, so don't worry," Layla also told her not to worry.
"Well, you can absorb the ice essence," I said to her, pointing towards the window, I added, "There's a lot out there."
All of them looked towards the window and saw the whole EverFrost. It was covered with ice and snow. This place frozen, since her childhood incident.
"Where will you find such pure ice?" I thought to myself.
"Will this really work?" Layla asked me, looked confused.
"Why not? It worked for you as well," I explained to Layla.
Only then, they remember how Layla absorbed a lot of corruption, to even overpower—The domain of Corruption queen.
"She doesn't have to absorb a lot like lyra, just enough to defrost this place," I explained them, my eyes were on Lyra.
"This place also has snow essence, it will help you in both of your elements," I told her Lyra.
Lyra was already determined to save her mother at all cost, this was just a small task for her.
She instantly agreed, started moving outside the carriage.
We all followed her, keeping a medium distance just to not disturb her concentration, during absorption.
Lyra.
Her black hair, like strands of midnight silk, contrasted starkly against the endless sea of white. Snowflakes clung to her long lashes, melting into droplets that froze again along her cheeks. Her black eyes, once sharp and restless, were now still, calm—focused.
She sat cross-legged atop a thick sheet of ice that cracked faintly beneath her presence, her hands resting gently on her knees, palms open to the sky. Around her, the cold seemed alive, breathing with the slow rise and fall of her chest.
A deep breath.
The air shifted.
The frost that coated the place, shimmered as if awakening to her call. Tiny particles of ice and snowflakes began to lift from the ground, swirling gently around her like a gathering storm. Her black hair fluttered against the sudden pulse of magic, but Lyra did not move. Her body remained perfectly still, her soul reaching outward, drinking in the essence that surrounded her.
The frozen world answered.
The ice beneath her cracked again, but this time not from weight — from magic. Fine veins of light-blue energy spread out from under her, crawling across the ground. Everywhere the veins touched, the ice shivered and trembled, releasing wisps of pure essence— the soul of winter itself.
Snow essence, light and ethereal, danced upward like misty ribbons, while ice essence, heavier and sharper, flowed like streams of liquid crystal toward her.
Lyra exhaled, her breath forming a dense cloud in the frozen air. Her black eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the swirl of power around her. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her hands, and the storm intensified.
The snow essence wrapped around her arms in spirals, caressing her skin, sinking into her. The ice essence crashed against her body like waves, carving invisible marks along her arms, her back, her heart. She accepted it all, let it flood her senses, allowed it to seep into every corner of her being.
A deep hum resonated from the earth below, as if the village itself was weeping, its lifeblood being absorbed.
The air grew colder.
Frost crawled up Lyra's legs, clinging to her like delicate lace. The snow around her flattened under the invisible force, pulled inward by her magic. The sky above darkened, heavy clouds swirling in slow, hypnotic circles over the frozen wasteland.
Then came the pain.
'Argh'
A sharp gasp escaped Lyra's lips, and her body shuddered. The raw, wild essence of winter was not gentle—it was ancient, merciless, unyielding. It tore through her veins, freezing her blood, weighing down her soul. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer striking ice, threatening to shatter her from within.
But Lyra gritted her teeth and endured.
Because she had chosen this.
She needed this.
For herself.
For her mother, she had lost.
For the future she refused to surrender.
The storm raged around her now, centered on her small, fragile-looking figure. Wind howled through the broken streets. Shards of ice lifted into the sky, caught in a spiral of violent grace. Yet through it all, Lyra sat unwavering, a dark star at the center of a frozen galaxy.
Minutes passed. Or hours. She couldn't tell anymore.
Slowly, steadily, the storm began to calm. The ice essence, once chaotic and overwhelming, settled within her, becoming part of her core. The snow essence cooled the raging fire inside her heart, mending what the ice had cracked.
The veins of blue magic on the ground dimmed and disappeared.
The frozen world fell still once again.
Silence reigned.
Lyra opened her eyes.
They were no longer simply black — they shimmered faintly, as if a layer of frost now covered the void of her gaze.
She stood slowly, her movements graceful and controlled, and as she rose, thin sheets of frost spread from her feet, trailing outward like the bloom of a deadly, beautiful flower.
The ice village had given up its soul to her.
And she had accepted it.
Lyra looked up at the swirling gray sky, her black hair cascading down her back, her body now a vessel of winter's wrath and beauty.
A whisper escaped her lips, carried away by the cold wind:
"I'm ready."
—To be continued..