Jack Frost gripped the ice staff tighter, feeling the cold pulse through their gloved fingers. They stood alone in the frozen clearing, practicing the same spell for the hundredth time. Ice magic wasn't just a hobby—it was everything. One day, they would master every frost technique and become the undisputed lord of ice. But not today. The icicle shattered mid-air, falling like broken glass onto the snow. Jack needed a target. A real one. They raised the staff and pulled frost from the air. Snow packed together, forming a round belly and a jolly face. Jack added a red hat made of ice and a thick belt. The training dummy looked like a frosted version of Santa Claus. Perfect for practice. Jack stepped back and aimed. The first ice bolt hit the dummy's left arm. The second one missed completely. The third shattered against its frozen chest. Jack lowered the staff and stared at the target. Their hands were steady now. Their breathing was calm. Tomorrow they would hit the center every time. Tomorrow they would be one step closer to mastering ice magic forever. The frosted dummy wasn't enough. Jack needed to test something harder. They spotted a wooden bucket near the edge of the clearing. Water still dripped from a crack in its side. Jack raised the staff and focused. The water slowed, then stopped mid-air. Ice spread up from the ground, freezing the stream solid. The bucket hung suspended, connected to the earth by a frozen waterfall. Jack walked around it, checking every angle. The ice held firm. No cracks. No melting. This was progress. Real progress. Jack touched the frozen water with bare fingers. It was solid and cold under their skin. Each day brought them closer to true mastery. The lord of frost wasn't just a dream anymore. It was a path. And Jack would walk it until ice answered to them without question. They picked up the staff and headed back toward the clearing. There was still work to do before nightfall. But tonight, Jack had a bigger plan. They would build something that mattered. A fort made entirely of snow and ice. Frost patterns would cover every wall. It would be their palace—the place where the true lord of frost would rule. Jack planted the staff in the ground and began. Snow rose from the earth, forming walls and towers. Ice carved patterns into each surface, creating swirling designs. By moonrise, the fort stood complete. Jack stepped inside and looked up at the frozen ceiling. This was just the beginning.