Chapter 34: She didn’t look back
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Her laugh grew—louder, unhinged—cursing herself for every flinch, every bow, every time she'd let them rule her.
The truth sank in, cold and hard: she was strong, stronger than them, stronger than anyone. She didn't need to touch them to end them—her will alone turned them to ice, her power a crown she'd never drop, forged in that moment of blood and frost.
She stood slow, knees trembling but spine straight, and kicked the ball—hard—watching it bounce off the freckled boy's frozen skull with a dull thud, rolling into a puddle that iced over fast.
Her chest heaved, breath pluming thick, and she laughed again—sharp, triumphant—as the realization settled: she was no one's mutt, no one's shadow.
She was Freya, and she'd rule herself from now on. She is born to be a Queen.
The alley stayed quiet—too quiet—after that, the ice glinting dull under a gray sky as she turned away, boots crunching a path through the frost.
She didn't look back—not at the bodies, not at the ball, not at the life she'd shed like a skin too tight. Blood pumped fast in her veins, her hands steady now, the cold humming alive under her skin as she walked out, the city sprawling ahead, a playground for her new strength.
She'd been weak—pathetic, spineless—but that girl died in the alley with those kids, buried under ice she'd never thaw.