Chapter 46: Frost Queen’s Ultimatum!
The air was strung with a mere thread of tension, as frosty gazes interwined with the silvery calmness. Demond's palm hovered over glitters of ice, staff readied at her summon, Adil's rotted palms both grasping the sceptor, a non-chalent tiny giant whose steadfast frame spoke of an epitaph of countless waiting from a wilted lily.
A beckoning for a fast opening to break the threaded silence, as Demond summoned her staff before its tip hurled a flash of avanlache, with Adil's roots sprung up to meet the blast, the trembling impact sprayed a iced arc to block the druid's vision.
The druid dismissed the dead roots like broken toys as bizarre orchids with large teeth poked from the soil, product from her year-long runes as she merely pointed, her children dashed from the ground to please her master, before meeting iced spears to be grounded into blackened dusts carried by the wind. Ancient and fresh seals orbited Demond, icicles bristling like machine-gun barrels.
The slight time brought from the swift first strike paid off, as the icicled circles spin like gattling cogs before a flood of large ice shards darted for the druid's rooted walls and vines, each and every impact sent a shivering glacier that impaired the druid's vision, the foggy freshness in her nostril unbearable for the overwhelming barrage. The Druid narrowed her eyes as she blocked and grasped for an opening, before the gnarly roots twitched below the witch answered to her, as they stabbed through the ground and rushed for her face.
But the ice trail beneath the witch's bare feet cackled and sparred the soil an early winter, creeping a frosty lie that chased for the children, the sharpened thorn reached just a hair's breath before her cheek, before succombing to the crept up frost just in time. The witch, however, while shifting her gaze back on Adil constantly at the mercy of the icicle rain, her mana sense tingled of a menacing danger, as her icy eyes darted for the frozen roots, teeth now spawned from the living green.
An innocent chuckle, then a mad shriek pierced her ears louder than any requiem for a soldier's funeral, as the witch covered her ears, gritted her teeth as her palm spawned ice to take over her drumming ears, a temporary relief against the Druid's defiling act as the green's caregiver. The gatling icicles slowed down, a hint of her focused formulas faltering against the Druid, whose roots sprang up again from around her to rush for the witch.
The art of quick weaving, however, came in a mere instant as the witch's quivering finger glid over the air in a straight line, birds of ice slid from the crack and unfurled their wings as they flew to liberate the screeching roots in a deathly freedom, the birds pounding themselves into sprays of dusts that withered the roots' movement, before halting them in their own soil as they nodded in defeat.
As the witch's hasted mind reformed the icicled seals, she gasped at the hazy crack admist the frozen roots. It was too late, as the iced veins around her and in front of her exploded into pollens, an intoixating aroma that smelled of lilies' sweetness purring in the air, contrasted with the sickly greens of fog furling around her. Her throat hitched as she felt pilk stomached in her lungs, the grieves of vampires, demons that suffered at the hands of the druid once again marring her sense of self, as her connection with her own mana wavered.
The druid closed her eyes as her sceptor loosened at the boring end, before her ears heard a tremble on the scarred soil, as her silvery gaze landed upon the gasping witch, both hands' gripping the staff as mana surged to the tip for a blast of icy explosion, before slamming it onto the ground.