Episode 3 - Lightning and Thunder
1300 Words
This was indicating that Icelynn was correct.
The ice princess had spoken the truth.
I knew it wasn't in line with her character to deceive.
Icelynn didn’t lie. She didn’t bend. She cut straight through, even when the truth left bruises. That was her. Cold, clean, and honest to a fault.
She was the kind of person who would tell you your coat was torn in front of the whole court and not think twice about it. She was the kind who would stand in a blizzard and not shiver, just to prove she could.
When she said the sky would fall, you checked the sky.
Unlike Prince Levi.
From my cousin with the power of illusions. Perpetually mischievous. Always distorting reality for amusement.
He’d turn a hallway into a lake and watch us panic. He’d make the torches go out and whisper my name from the dark. He’d make me see my own face in the mirror and have it wink back, then laugh when I punched the glass.
We were childhood frenemies. I grew up with bruises from his tricks.
I could discern his deceptions at times. The way his smile pulled too far left. The way his voice dropped half a note when he was about to lie. The way he always touched his ring when he was nervous.
Hers I could not.
With Icelynn, there was nothing to read. No twitch. No tell. Just ice over steel.
She said. "Why are you angry at me?" Her gaze was hollow now. Empty in a way that hurt more than anger. "Because as I recall, you never cared. Perhaps that is preferable. Report me if you wish, I'm returning home."
The words landed and didn’t echo. They just sat there, heavy.
Like rocks in my chest.
And she swept past me with fury. Cold air brushed my face. It carried the scent of rain and forest, and something older. Regret, maybe. Or winter that had been waiting a long time.
The air felt thinner after she left.
With a furious stare I had never believed she possessed. Incisive enough to wound. It wasn’t the stare of a mere girl. It was the stare of someone who had been left behind too many times and was done waiting.
It was the stare of someone who had given chances until her hands were empty.
But she was right, in the end.
What was wrong with me?
Why was I treating honesty like an insult?
Why was I trying to push away the only person who saw me and didn’t flinch?
The question turned in my chest and cut.
My necklace pulsed as thunder and lightning erupted.
The pendant blazed white-hot against my throat. Once. Then again.
It was like a heartbeat. Not mine.
As if it acknowledged her. As if it remembered the old oaths we’d made under a sky like this.
When we were ten and stupid and thought promises meant forever.
The chain burned, then cooled, leaving my skin tingling.
The rain became heavy.
Thunder cracked the sky. Lightning struck.
The downpour was brutal. Rain fell in solid sheets, like the sky had shattered and decided to drown the world.
Wind howled between the trees. It bent them until they screamed.
Branches thrashed and threw water everywhere. Each thunderclap shook the ground under my boots.
The mud under me was already ankle-deep.
Lightning lit the forest white for one breath, then swallowed it in black.
In that white flash the world looked wrong. Too sharp. Too bare.
The torn leaves. The mud. The path ahead, washed out and dangerous.
The air was cold, wet, electric. Breathing felt like swallowing ice.
My hair plastered to my cheeks. Water ran down my neck and under my collar. My clothes weighed twice as much.
---
Somewhere in the storm, Ayla was moving.
Ayla clipped homewards. Head down. Arms full of fruit.
A basket over one arm. Apples. Pears. A handful of berries she’d picked even though the rain had started.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t call my name.
Her shoulders were a straight line.
The forest wasn’t kind today.
The path was already turning to soup. Mud that grabbed at her boots.
She stepped over a fallen log slick with moss. Her foot slipped and she caught herself on a tree. Bark bit into her palm.
A jay screamed from above and darted away, wings white against the grey.
She jumped the first obstacle. A narrow stream that had doubled in size. Water raced over stones, fast and angry.
She cleared it. Landed hard. Mud splashed up her legs.
The second obstacle was a tangle of brambles thrown across the path by the wind.
She ducked. A thorn caught her sleeve and tore it. She didn’t stop to fix it.
A deer burst from the bushes ahead. Eyes wild. It crashed past her and was gone.
Ayla froze. Heart hammering.
The storm was scaring everything out of the trees.
She kept moving.
Third obstacle. A low wall of stone, half-covered in ivy.
She climbed it. Rain in her eyes. Her fingers were numb.
On the other side, the ground gave way. She slid down into more mud.
"Stupid," she muttered. To herself. To the storm.
She stood. Adjusted the basket. Fruit shifted but didn’t fall. Not yet.
The wind picked up. It pushed her sideways.
She leaned into it.
A fox watched her from under a bush. Soaked and miserable. It didn’t run. Just watched.
Ayla met its eyes for a second. Then kept going.
The trees were louder now. Creaking. Groaning.
One big oak ahead had a c***k running down the trunk. Lightning had hit it earlier. The smell of burnt wood hung in the air.
She jumped another obstacle. A ditch that hadn’t been there last week.
Her ankle twisted on landing. She hissed but didn’t cry out.
Rain in her mouth. Rain in her eyes.
Her arms were starting to ache from the basket.
She thought about turning back. About waiting out the storm.
But home was closer. And she was already soaked. And she was angry.
So she walked faster.
A crow landed on a branch above her. It c****d its head. Watched her.
"Don’t," she told it. "I’m fine."
It cawed once and flew off.
The path narrowed. Roots came up like traps.
She stepped over one. Then another.
The fourth obstacle was a fallen branch. Big.
She climbed over it. The basket tipped. One apple fell. She didn’t pick it up.
Her breath was coming hard now. Not from the walk. From everything else.
The sky flashed again. Thunder followed immediately. Too close.
She picked up her pace.
Home was just past the next ridge. She could almost smell the smoke from the chimney.
Then the ground betrayed her.
Along the way she hit her leg on an obstacle and fell.
It wasn’t big. Just a root. Hidden by leaves and water.
Her boot caught.
She went down.
Her fruit rolled over.
Scattered into the mud. Apples, pears, berries.
All of it ruined.
Crushed. Bruised. Washed away by rain before it could even be saved.
Annoyed and drenched, she muttered, "where is Marvu when you need him?" Her voice was small under the storm.
She tried to laugh, but it came out wrong. Wet. Tired.
She pushed herself up. Mud on her face. Mud in her hair.
The basket was cracked down the side.
Her leg hurt.
A weak tree beside her fell gradually towards her while she tried to get up.
Slow at first.
The roots made a sound. A long, wet tearing. Like the earth was letting go.
Then fast.
Bark groaned. A deep, awful sound.
Roots tore from wet earth.
The trunk came down.
She realizes, gasps. Her eyes went wide.
- Writer
