Betrayal

Joy, a sensation long dormant, surged through him, banishing the shadows of fear. Eleven years of solitude had etched themselves onto his soul, and the mere echo of her laughter felt like a beacon of warmth in the frozen wasteland. He quickened his pace, driven not by escape, but by the promise of reconnection.

Shimo was extremely happy to sense Lyra again, and the thought of danger never crossed his mind, which made him careless.

When he reached his camp, he found 34 people standing there, all of whom were breathless after seeing how beautiful and attractive Shimo was. The name Ice demon did no justice to him.

Breathless gasps escaped their lips, replaced by murmurs of wonder and awe. "Ice Demon," the name felt inadequate, a mere label failing to capture the magnificence they witnessed. His glacier-carved features, his frost-kissed hair, and the emerald glow emanating from within painted a picture far removed from the fearsome image their legends had conjured.

Confusion tugged at him. 'Why were they here? What did they want?'

His gaze scanned the crowd, searching for the one answer that mattered most. And then he saw her – Lyra, emerging from the throng, her blue robe rippling in the wind. Relief washed over him, erasing the last vestiges of suspicion. With her, there was no need for defense, only the familiar ache of longing that had become woven into the fabric of his being.

But in the blink of an eye, the world tilted on its axis. Lyra, her face contorted in an unrecognizable mask of betrayal, lunged forward, stabbing him with a crimson and azure(red and blue) dagger glinting in her hand. The blade, an Agni Spike, thrummed with malevolent energy, its fire dancing like a mocking flame against his icy essence.

Pain, searing and brutal, exploded in his chest. Shimo stumbled back, the dagger lodged deep in his chest, his eyes locking with hers in a silent scream. Disbelief wrestled with agony as he stared at the woman he had trusted, the only soul he had allowed to pierce the walls of his solitude for over a decade.

The searing agony spread, a wildfire consuming his insides. The Agni Spike, more than just a weapon, was a harbinger of doom for Ice Demons, its flames specifically sap their power, extinguish their very being. His breath hitched, his vision blurring at the edges as his life force ebbed away like water through cracked ice.

He realized what was happening to him and that it was a trap.

Memories flickered before him – his family, the whisper of wind through the tundra, the fleeting warmth of shared laughter with Lyra. His life, a tapestry woven with hardship and hope, threatened to unravel at the seams. His life flashed before his eyes as he struggled to hold on to his consciousness.

He fought, the primal instinct to survive clawing at him, but his body felt heavy, unresponsive. The pain, an inferno threatening to consume him, stole his strength, leaving him drowning in a sea of molten fire.

The agony intensified, his body trembling uncontrollably. His ice powers, the very essence of his being, faded like dying embers. The wings, symbols of his potential, shriveled and vanished, leaving only the echo of a dream unfulfilled. His once powerful physique, etched with the strength of the frost, withered, leaving behind a frail shell.

He collapsed, clutching the dagger in his chest, his knees buckling under the weight of betrayal and pain. Blood, warm and sticky, painted the snow crimson, a stark contrast to the icy blue that had defined him. His mind, reeling from the shock, searched for answers, but all he found was the chilling question – why? Why had Lyra, the person he had opened his heart to, the one who had brought light into his frozen world, betrayed him so cruelly?

The group of people surrounding him and Lyra started to close in, their expressions a mixture of shock and awe at what they had just witnessed. They had all come to fight the legendary Ice demon, but none of them had expected to see him brought to his knees by a single strike from a dagger.

Lyra, her face devoid of any semblance of the warmth he once saw, towered over him, her voice dripping with venom. "You were always too weak," she spat, her words like shards of ice piercing his already broken heart. "I had to do this for the Ice Tower and my promotion. Your heart and body will be a valuable asset."

Shimo's spirit, already battered and bruised, sank further. He was nothing more than a pawn in her game, a means to an end. Regret, a bitter pang, gnawed at him. Regret for trusting, for opening his heart, for believing in the illusion of companionship. As darkness threatened to consume him, one final thought flickered across his fading mind – a vow, whispered on the wind, a promise of vengeance if he somehow defied the icy grip of death.

Lyra's chilling command hung heavy in the frigid air, echoing off the icy plains. "Pick him up," she spat, her gaze fixed on Shimo's crumpled form, "and let's go." Her voice, once laced with warmth in his memories, now held the bite of winter wind, sending shivers down the spines of her followers.

Legends of the Ice Demon's might were etched in their minds – blizzards conjured in a heartbeat, mountains shattered with a flick of the wrist. Yet, here he lay, weakened and betrayed, a stark contrast to the indomitable figure they had envisioned. Shame flickered in their eyes, quickly masked by steely resolve. They had come for a prize, and they wouldn't leave empty-handed.

With hesitant steps, the men approached. The air crackled with tension, the weight of their treachery bearing down on them. Gingerly, they lifted Shimo, his body limp and unresponsive. A chilling stillness had descended upon him, punctuated only by the ragged gasps escaping his lips. Even in the throes of defeat, a flicker of defiance remained. His frost-tipped fingers twitched ever so slightly, hinting at the power that still simmered beneath the surface.

As they neared the preserving artifact they brought – a contraption shaped like a crystalline coffin. But then, in a heartbeat, with a surge of strength born of pure rage and despair, Shimo's hand snapped open. Ice erupted, forming a blade that shimmered with the fury of a dying star.

The air split with the thrum of magic, unleashing a wave of icy slash of energy that tore through the ranks of his captors. Screams ripped through the frozen air as twenty-six figures were instantly consumed by the frigid blast, their bodies turning to lifeless statues in the blink of an eye.

Panic erupted amongst the remaining men. They scattered like startled snow birds, their faces etched with terror. But Lyra, undeterred, was a viper ready to strike. Drawing upon the foot techniques Shimo had once patiently taught her, she moved with the deadly grace of a predator. In a whirlwind of motion, she closed the distance, her eyes blazing with a cold fire.

She twisted the Agni Spike lodged in Shimo's chest, exploiting the excruciating pain to momentarily paralyze him. Then, she ripped the dagger free, the crimson bloom on its tip stark against the pristine snow and stabbed him again in the stomach.