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Frost had always been there, lurking in the shadows of Jake's mind. Silent, watchful, and waiting. He never had to intervene much, letting Jake stumble through life with limited control of the powers that surged deep within them both. It was only when Jake's consciousness slipped, when the blackouts came, that Frost stepped forward to take the reins.
He didn't remember much himself. Except for the searing hatred—hatred for the man with the memory , though who he was or why he mattered had faded into the mists of time. His memories, fragmented like broken glass, taunted him with pieces that never fit together.
Now, as Jake faced the forest's depths, his mind still reeling from the unfamiliar surroundings and the echoing voices of monsters nearby, Frost lingered at the edge, observing. From the back of Jake's mind, he saw it all—every flicker of doubt, every twinge of fear. Jake's confusion amused him, but there wasn't much time to revel in it. Something stirred in the darkness.
Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath them. The adventurer and his team had triggered something in the forest—a sinkhole—and without warning, they were plunging into the abyss.
Jake's scream echoed in Frost's mind, but it quickly grew faint. The world spun, and darkness swallowed them whole. As Jake faded, Frost surged forward. This was his moment. His body.
The lion man was first to land in the pit, his massive form crashing down with a roar. Muscles rippled under fur, and his fiery eyes locked on Jake—no, on Frost. The beast saw a human intruding in his territory. Fury surged through the lion man as he charged, claws extended and teeth bared, ready to tear them apart.
But it wasn't Jake standing in his way anymore. Frost took over, cool and calculating.
With a single thought, he forced Jake's consciousness into a comatose sleep, shutting off the panic and confusion. For now, it was just Frost and the beast.
The lion man pounced, its claws tearing through the air. The cavern filled with the sound of his massive paws striking the ground, sending vibrations through the earth. Frost sidestepped swiftly, his movements fluid and graceful, his senses heightened. Every breath of the lion man, every flicker of its fiery eyes, felt magnified, yet distant, as if time slowed around them.
A cold sensation prickled at the back of his mind—a warning, perhaps—but he pushed it aside. He couldn't afford distraction. Not now.
Frost's feet barely touched the ground as he moved, his agility far exceeding anything Jake could have mustered. But despite his speed, he felt a strange tightness in his chest, as though his strength was being sapped with each second. He clenched his fists, pushing through the growing weariness. He had to finish this quickly.
The lion man roared again, a deep, thunderous sound that rattled Frost's bones. Flames ignited in the creature's eyes, a fiery rage that promised destruction. Frost extended his hand, ice sparking to life at his fingertips, forming a barrier between them. The flames collided with the ice wall, creating an explosion of steam, the cavern filling with a thick, suffocating fog.
For a moment, Frost felt the weight of the beast's power. The lion man's fury was not just physical—it was primal, something ancient that resonated deep within the forest itself. Frost's heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder that his energy was running low.
But there was no turning back.
He lunged forward, cutting through the steam, his fist crackling with frost. He struck the lion man square in the chest, ice spreading rapidly over the creature's fur, freezing the very air around them. The impact sent a shockwave through the cavern, the lion man staggering back, its fiery gaze dimming under the cold assault.
Frost could feel the power coursing through him, but it was different this time—wild, unstable. Every pulse of energy was accompanied by a creeping numbness, as if his own body was turning to ice from the inside out. His limbs felt heavier with each passing second, and the cold that he commanded so effortlessly now threatened to consume him.
The lion man shook itself, shattering some of the ice that bound its fur. It let out a final, desperate roar, its breath visible in the freezing air. Frost narrowed his eyes. He had no choice but to end this now. Drawing upon the last reserves of his strength, he raised both hands, summoning a torrent of ice that surged forward like a tidal wave, engulfing the beast completely.
The cavern fell silent. The lion man was frozen in place, encased in ice, its once-mighty form reduced to a motionless statue. For a moment, all was still.
But Frost felt no victory. His body trembled violently, not from the cold, but from the strain of having pushed too far. He had been holding back for so long—saving his energy for the threats that lurked deeper in the forest—that now, after unleashing it all in one devastating attack, there was little left.
A wave of dizziness washed over him, his vision blurring. He swayed on his feet, barely able to keep his balance. The cold that had once been his ally now gnawed at his flesh, threatening to freeze him from within. Frost clenched his teeth, forcing his body to move. He had to get out of here, away from the pit, away from whatever was still out there, watching.
He glanced upward, toward the mouth of the sinkhole. It was time to leave. With what little strength remained, he conjured an icy platform beneath his feet, raising himself out of the pit. The lion man lay defeated below, but Frost could barely feel the triumph of victory. His mind was clouded, his body weak.
As he reached the surface, the cool night air hit his face, but it brought no relief. Instead, a sense of disorientation swept over him, stronger than before. He stumbled forward, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest tight, as if the air itself was freezing inside him.
And then, a thought emerged—haunting and persistent: Who am I?
Frost stopped in his tracks, staring at the forest ahead. The question echoed in his mind, louder now, impossible to ignore. What happened? He couldn't remember. The fragments of memory that had once seemed distant now swirled in confusion, offering no answers. His connection to Jake felt tenuous, fragile, as though something fundamental had shifted during the fight.
What is happening to me?
He tried to gather his thoughts, but they slipped away like ice melting in the sun. His grip on reality, on himself, was slipping.
The trees loomed around him, the shadows shifting, and Frost felt the presence of other creatures. They were out there, watching, waiting for the moment to strike. He had used too much energy. He wasn't ready for another battle.
His control faltered. For the first time in what felt like ages, Frost felt fear—not of the monsters lurking in the forest, but of himself. The power he had relied on for so long was unraveling, and he didn't know how to stop it.
With a final, unsteady breath, Frost took a step forward. The shadows closed in, and he knew—this was just the beginning.
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