Chapter 13 - The Frost Queen’s Wrath
The valley erupted into a chaotic symphony of steel, blood, and fury. Stellan tore through the enemy front lines like a hurricane, his massive jaws crushing iron shields and sending mercenaries flying into the snow banks. Yet, the enemy had prepared for a Lycan assault; a phalanx of archers unleashed volleys of glowing, rune-etched arrows designed to pierce thick hides.
Several arrows struck dangerously close to Stellan’s flank, drawing agonizing roars from the beast.
High on the ridge, Giselle’s heart skipped a beat. A surge of protective fury—pure, royal, and untamed—flooded her veins. The air around her temperature plummeted instantly, turning the falling snowflakes into razor-sharp shards of ice.
She raised both hands toward the sky, closing her eyes as she chanted an ancient Frostfang incantation long forgotten by the world.
The clouds above swirled violently, parting to reveal a blinding column of blue light. With a thunderous crack, a massive blizzard materialized out of nowhere, sweeping down the mountain pass with the force of a tidal wave.
General Vane cursed, trying to rally his men as the blinding wall of ice and wind enveloped them. "Hold the line! Don't let the frost—"
He never finished his sentence.
The freezing gale swept over the battlefield, instantly freezing the enemies' weapons to their hands and anchoring their boots to the ground. The rune-pikes shattered into useless dust. The mercenaries screamed as the bitter cold stole the breath from their lungs, dropping their weapons and collapsing into the snow.
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Stellan shifted back into his human form, walking through the frozen, immobile enemy ranks untouched. He reached the base of the ridge and looked up at Giselle, who stood bathed in ethereal blue light, her white hair and crimson eyes radiating absolute majesty.
She was no longer just the Luna of the North. She was its absolute sovereign.
