The temperature plummeted.
In an instant, the stifling heat of the war-torn city vanished, replaced by a bone-chilling cold that swept through the house like a wave. The shift was sudden and unnatural, the air itself becoming icy, almost suffocating.
The man’s hand froze in mid-air. Both men’s eyes widened in confusion, their breath visible in the sudden cold. Siara’s own breath came out in short, ragged gasps as the frost crept over the room. It was as if winter itself had descended upon them in the blink of an eye.
The cold crept through the house like a predator, as the walls and floor slowly turned to ice, frost spreading in intricate patterns across every surface. The air grew heavy and biting, each breath visible in the sudden chill. Siara shivered, her breath catching in her throat as the change overcame the room.
“W..what’s happening?!” one of the men stammered, his voice trembling as he scanned the room, panic seeping into his words.
“I don’t know! I’m not doing anything!” the other man snapped back, his grip tightening around Siara’s arm. He glanced around frantically, eyes wide with fear.
“Is that you?!” He demanded, glaring at Siara, who stood still, her attention fixed elsewhere, her gaze drawn upward as if she sensed something they couldn’t. Her breath quickened as a presence—cold, distant, and ominous—made itself known from above.
“Where are you looking?” The man growled, yanking Siara closer. His voice dripped with anger, but his bravado wavered.
Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed through the house.
BADOOM!
The ceiling above them split and shattered, sending debris raining down in a cloud of dust and stone. The force of the explosion sent Siara and the two men stumbling, instinctively shielding their eyes from the sudden burst of chaos. When they finally looked up, the dust was still swirling in the air like a curtain, veiling the figure that had just landed before them.
A young man stood in the clearing dust.. His black hair fell neatly over sharp, ice-blue eyes that glowed faintly, cold. He appeared unremarkable in appearance—an ordinary man in his early twenties—but there was something about him that made the very air around him feel dangerous. A chilling aura radiated from him.
“Thi…this guy is bad news…” the man holding the Trojan girl muttered under his breath, his grip slackening as fear began to gnaw at his nerves. His hand trembled as he released her, pushing her toward the stranger as if offering her up could save him from whatever fate awaited.
“What? You want them too?” The other man asked, his voice shaky as he tried to keep the situation under control, but it was clear he was grasping at straws. He laughed nervously, dragging Siara forward by the arm. “Let’s share them if you want that much?”
But even as he spoke, there was an unspoken understanding between the two men—they were standing in front of something far more dangerous than they had anticipated. The cold that gripped the room wasn’t just from the ice creeping across the floor; it came from him, this man whose presence froze the very air.
Yet, clinging to the hope that he was an ally, the man tried to offer Siara like some sort of twisted bribe, desperate to avoid the conflict brewing in the pit of his stomach.
Unfortunately for him, Nathan was not with them, greeks. And his attempt to bargain was made even more foolish by the fact that the woman he was gripping so tightly was Nathan’s stepsister.
“No! Look!” the first man hissed, his voice rising in panic as he pointed to the golden emblem gleaming on Nathan’s chest. “It’s the Trojan emblem! He’s a fucking enemy, idiot!”
The emblem was unmistakable, a symbol given to Trojan mercenaries to distinguish them from the Greeks. It shone coldly on Nathan’s chest, marking him as one of the Trojan fighters. Understanding dawned too late for the two men, and they stumbled backward, dragging Siara with them in their haste to create distance.
For the Trojan girl, the sight of that emblem was salvation. Tears welled in her eyes as relief washed over her. “A Trojan…” she whispered, her voice trembling with gratitude. She quickly retreated behind Nathan, seeking protection.
“What do you want, coward Trojan?!” one of the Greek men shouted but his body betrayed him. The words he spat were laced with anger, yet the tremor in his limbs revealed his growing fear. The temperature in the room continued to plummet, and his breath emerged in ragged clouds of condensation. Every inch of him shivered from the unnatural cold that radiated from Nathan’s presence.
Nathan remained silent, his ice-blue eyes unmoving, fixated not on the man’s outburst but on the hand gripping Siara’s arm.
“Help me! We can take him down if we..what?!” The man holding Siara turned to his companion, his words faltering as he saw what had become of him. His blood turned to ice at the sight: his comrade stood frozen, his face twisted in an expression of pure terror, as if death had claimed him mid-scream. His skin was encased in frost, his body completely immobilized like a statue carved from ice.
“Fuck! I have to get out of here!” the remaining man stammered, his voice breaking with desperation. He tried to pull away, dragging Siara along, but something was wrong—something felt wrong. A creeping chill ran up his arm, cold enough to numb his fingers instantly. His eyes darted down in horror to see his hand—still gripping Siara—was frozen solid.
“What the—” his voice faltered, his disbelief barely audible. He watched, helpless, as the ice snaked its way from his fingers, spreading up his arm at an agonizingly slow pace. His skin crackled as it froze, the icy tendrils winding like cruel chains over his flesh.
“GUAARRGH!” His scream shattered the silence, a horrified, animalistic cry of pain and fear. Siara flinched, the sound chilling her to her core, as she watched the man succumb to the same fate as his companion. The ice engulfed him completely, freezing him where he stood, his features twisted in terror until his body stood motionless—another frozen figure in the icy tomb Nathan had created.
Nathan moved forward with an eerie calm, each step deliberate and without hurry. Reaching the man, now a frozen monument of fear, Nathan raised his leg and delivered a single, powerful kick. The frozen man shattered upon impact, fragments of ice cascading across the floor, mingling with the remains of his already frozen comrade.
The room fell eerily silent once again, no blood, no flesh—just broken shards of ice where two men had stood moments before.
Siara took a step back, her legs trembling as she struggled to comprehend the horrifying spectacle she had just witnessed. Her breath came in shallow gasps, fear clenching her chest tightly. She couldn’t speak—her voice was trapped somewhere between shock and terror. This man, this stranger in front of her, had just destroyed two people effortlessly, as if they were nothing more than brittle statues.
He was the strongest person she had ever seen in her life, and the fear that gripped her heart now told her that she might be next. Her mind raced, wondering if he would turn on her. She had been with the Greeks, after all—maybe he saw her as an enemy too.
“S-she tried to help me… please, spare her…” the Trojan girl who had been seized earlier whispered, stepping forward cautiously. She could see Nathan’s eyes had shifted toward Siara, but she misunderstood his gaze. She thought he was going to kill her too, just as he had done with the two men. Desperation rang in her voice as she pleaded for Siara’s life.
But Nathan wasn’t thinking about slaughtering his stepsister. He was simply looking at her, his ice-blue eyes softened just slightly with recognition. It had been months—too many months—since he had last seen Siara. And now, here she was, standing before him, but she was different. She didn’t carry the same vibrance he remembered.
Her face was pale, her expression dark and haunted, as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. The joy that once radiated from her had dimmed, and Nathan couldn’t help but wonder if she still remembered him, if she still thought of him the way she once had.
He wanted to speak, to tell her something, but words escaped him, leaving only silence between them. Siara seemed scared. Of course Nathan was wearing another face to leave Tenebria out of troubles so for Siara he was just a dangerous and scary stranger but maybe he thought Siara could recognize him.
Siara was looking back at Nathan scared but something felt strange inside her. She didn’t recognise him, she had no idea who he was yet that cold gaze, she had seen once or twice years ago when she was getting adopted…but she didn’t remember where exactly…
Suddenly, a wave of instinct washed over Nathan. Without hesitation, he grabbed the Trojan girl and pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her. In a single fluid motion, he leapt, just as something tore through the air behind them.
A powerful gust followed, whipping through the house with devastating force. The house crumbled under the pressure, the walls disintegrating in a violent gust of wind. Debris exploded outward, shattered wood and stone flying in all directions, destroying what little remained of the structure.
But despite the destruction, Siara remained unharmed, sheltered by a protective barrier of wind that enveloped her.
Nathan landed outside the now-demolished building, holding the Trojan girl securely in his arms. His sharp eyes darted upward, scanning the sky for the source of the attack. And then, he saw her.
Floating above the ruins of the house was a figure of great beauty. Her long blonde hair billowed in the wind, and her piercing green eyes locked onto Nathan with a cold, familiar intensity. She hovered gracefully.
It had been a while since he had last seen her as well.
Gwen Lawrence.