Return - 2

Eyes that closed and hands that gently caressed Frost who… A name that… It was… 

"Hah…" I sighed, let the breath fall gently upon the even-tempered ground, the memories that seemed to just fall through the gentle slips of my mind. 

The absolute cold, her voice. Each an echo of the same.

"Are you sure?" She would ask, that drawl of hers seemed to just encourage me. Amongst the multitude of frosty bearings. Where the slightest touch seemed to edge towards bluer skin. Frostbite.

But still… still I turned and smiled, one that reached well and truly amongst my eyes. Exhaustion seemed to be so prevalent in those eyes, taken by the deadly spars which occurred between our two blades.

Hers a magic one generated by a swipe of her hand, a mere sewn circle that made spears of ice - relentless - always relentless in their pursuit.

And my own, a blade made of naught but crystals of ice, who blazed with that same cold flame that had appeared amongst my own circle.

Such that when the blade reached towards that hole of absolute cold, an object that even my system agreed was a miracle. One that could be created by many, but rarely - if ever - copied.

[Absence of Heat]

[The intense focus of a spellcaster, she took the heat and coalesced it into a blazing inferno, so that this area - confined - would be characterized by the absence of anything. Of movement and heat]

I shook my head once more, of thoughts and emotions that might cloud my mind. 

[Fusing…]

A reminder echoed through my mind. The sword made of common materials, steel forged in what should have been a machine, a hilt made by a robotic hand rather than that of a true craftsman.

Mass produced.

It was the only word to describe such a blade. 

But under the collapsing pressure of my system. Fused with greater and greater materials. It took form.

A chrysalis that formed the edge of the blade. Where once steel reigned supreme; now cracked and edged away by the slow growing blades of crystal. That carried the property of absolute cold.

Again and again that process repeated. Again and again sweat would form over my forehead. Mat my hair to the side of my face as I fused it over and over again.

From training session to training session.

Until once more. A last fusion that brought it to the brink of destruction.

The blade, who still carried that tinge of steel, cracked. A blade made of crystal and ice replaced it. And just being in the mere vicinity brought chills to my back. To the hands that held it.

But moments later, when that same view came back to me. I found a whisper within my ear.

White hair clouded my vision, with blue eyes that pierced glaringly into my own. A whisper on her mouth as she worshiped the name within her mouth.

"Frost"

Such was its name.

Monikered by the pure white of her hair, of the sorceress who had brought that vision to life. Who had made it possible. A combination of two powers.

One of fusion and the other of absolute cold.

"Thank you." I spoke, my voice still in reverence of Frost. Of the blade that chilled my hand. But this was not the same as the initial cold.

Which reverberated through my body still.

No, this was different, rather a small warmth that matched my own power. A chill that echoed with it a will of flames.

[Frost]

[A name bestowed by the very essence that it conveyed. Fused from the cold itself, from the efforts of a devoted trainee, given life from that very frost. An ordinary sword it may have started out as. But through their combined efforts Frost has obtained its name. Rightfully.]

That same moniker, that same description. 

"Of… course…" She drawled, in answer of that same response I had taken to the name she had given.

And for a moment neither of us moved.

I could still remember the exact scent that hung over both our noses. That imperious look of hers as she crawled over my lap. My smaller size a mere obstacle to her true purpose.

She took a look towards the sword that sat carefree within my lap. Such that with a swipe of her hands, another glare sent with such impudence. Within the second, the sword fell to the side.

Replaced with hands ever shifting within my lap. Touches that grazed my thighs, so… so pleasant…

But… but that… that could not be her true purpose… was it?

I turned, my gaze - so lidded - by the intensity of her touches, the warmth that she echoed over my thighs. My circle blazed. That newly stabilized circle of frost and flame. Coalesced into a vision over my wrist.

The same as her own, except mine kept a shifting blue flame. And within those flames, white hair. Tinged by the same blonde that my hair was… except… except…

Was that me?

I placed a hand over those bangs of mine, that veiled my vision with such length, and felt them. The white that intently replaced the blonde.

Was this because of…?

…

My eyes opened, back to that empty training room of hers. Where that ghostly hand - who ran gently against my thighs - disappeared. 

And memory brought me to those experiments. The fusion of animal and blade. To the mutations that occurred. Their tiny paws that sprouted blades, to the cores of energy that blazed and killed them.

To the eyes that changed. Crosses that seemed to echo forth their purpose. Only to die moments later.

Eventually it would stabilize. Their veins would bulge with power. A gaze with so much more intelligence.

And I knew… that if I wanted to survive, to prosper, then some risk was to be taken. And so the same experiment. Blade and being fused together. White hair replaced my own golden bangs. Eyes that closed in expectation of that very pain.

"Fuse"