Anon Frost's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The dimmed tree stood silent above Anon. Its light was gone, and the hollow shook without it. Cracks ran through the frozen floor. Warm water seeped up between the roots and darkened the ice. Anon held the cold circlet against his chest and turned to the slope he had climbed. His only path out was drowning in melt. He scrambled up the rise. The ground gave way under his boots. A sheet of ice slid free and dropped into black water below. He caught a root and hung there. The circlet burned cold in his fist. If he let go of it to climb, the melt would take it. If he held it, he would fall. "You always did want too much at once." The voice came from above. Aelindor stood at the lip of the hollow, dry and calm, watching Anon dangle. His green coat was clean. His silver hair hung loose. He was Anon's rival for the clans, and he had come to see Anon fail. He crouched and studied the crown of light in Anon's fist. "Give me the circlet," Aelindor said. "I'll pull you up. Then we settle who wears it." Anon's grip slipped. He would not trade his crown to the one man who wanted it most. "No," he said. Aelindor smiled and stood. "Then drown with it." He turned away. Heat rolled across the hollow. Anon felt it on his neck, wrong and thick. A woman climbed down the far slope on the melting ice as if it were stone. Blue flames moved through her long hair. Her pink dress did not catch the water. She was a fire priestess, and her warmth was death to an ice elf. Anon had never seen her before. He did not know why she had come. She knelt at the edge and reached down. "Take my hand." "You'll burn me," Anon said. "Not if you're quick." Aelindor watched from above, still now. Anon looked at the black water swallowing his footholds. He let go of the root and grabbed her wrist. Her skin seared his palm. He cried out but held on. She hauled him up over the lip and onto solid frost, the crown still locked in his other fist. He rolled away from her, cradling his burned hand. Steam rose off his sleeve. But the circlet lay whole against his chest, its light pulsing green and violet. Aelindor was gone. Anon saw only his tracks leading north, toward the clans. Azura stood over Anon, flames curling in her hair. "That crown carries a price," she said. "You'll want to know what I want for pulling you out of it." Anon got to his feet. He had his crown and his path back. But he owed a debt to fire now, and his rival had reached the clans first.