The air between them trembled—lightning crawling against frost like two beasts baring their fangs.
But before Ashura drew his blade, he lifted his gaze, voice low and cutting through the frozen silence.
"Before I start turning your palace into rubble," he said, "tell me—why does this concern you so much? Why does the Nameless One's name make your voice shake?"
A stillness fell.
The spears of ice that had risen from the ground slowed, stopped. Vynara's expression hardened, her ethereal calm cracking at the edges. The faintest flicker of old emotion—bitterness, maybe pain—shadowed her gaze.
She descended the last few steps of her throne, stopping just within arm's reach. The air shimmered around her, each breath crystallizing into drifting flakes.
"You mortals always think power comes without consequence," she said softly. "But his power—that lightning—was the end of everything I knew."
Ashura's brow twitched. "Explain."
Her eyes drifted upward, as if looking through centuries. The frostlight in the hall dimmed. "Long ago, before the rebellion of the heavens, I was not the Frost Queen you see now. I was Vynera of the Dawn, a goddess of warmth and rebirth. My domain was spring—melting snow, new life, renewal. When The One still walked among creation, I was His breath upon the ice."
Her hand clenched, frost mist coiling around her fingers. "Then the war came. The gods turned against The One. And when the Nameless One fell into wrath—when that black lightning burned through the skies—it didn't distinguish friend from foe. It consumed everything. The forests I loved, the mortals I protected, the other gods who stood beside me…" Her eyes burned faintly blue. "All erased by his storm."
Ashura tilted his head slightly. "So, what—you hate him for surviving?"
"No," she said, her tone cutting like ice. "I hate him for taking everything and leaving nothing. And I hate that his echo—that storm in your veins—dares to walk into my domain."
For a moment, Ashura said nothing. The lightning around him dimmed, shrinking to faint lines running along his arms. His eyes lowered slightly, thoughtful.
"I see," he murmured. "You're not angry at me. You're angry at the shadow that never left you."
Her jaw tightened. "Do not pretend to understand the grief of gods."
Ashura met her gaze again, a small, dangerous smile tugging at his lips.
"You're right. I'm not a god. But grief? Loss? Those I know far too well."
His tone dropped lower, the humor fading.
"And unlike you, I don't sit on a throne made of the past. I burn mine to move forward."
The floor cracked—purple lightning branching outward from his feet, devouring the frost beneath him.
Vynara's eyes narrowed. "You dare speak so to a goddess?"
Ashura's smirk returned, colder this time. "I don't speak to gods. I slay them."
The moment he said it, his Authority of Transcendent Wrath surged to life.
Black lightning burst from his halo, crawling up his arms and wrapping around his sword, the storm glowing with streaks of amethyst light. The sheer heat warped the air; even the divine ice began to hiss and melt.
Vynara spread her arms wide, frost radiating from her form in waves. "Then prove your claim, mortal. Let me see if your storm can shatter eternity again."
"Gladly," Ashura said, raising his blade. "Let's finish what your gods started."
The two forces collided.
The hall exploded into chaos—frost and lightning tearing through the air like dueling symphonies.
Every strike shook the domain. Ice towers outside cracked, sending avalanches cascading down the mountains. Blue and violet light painted the storm clouds above, seen even from miles away.
Ashura darted forward, cutting through the frost walls she conjured; his lightning sliced them apart like paper.
Vynara countered with a wave of frozen spears that spiraled toward him in perfect formation. He twirled his sword, deflecting each one with a thunderous crack, sparks scattering across the ice floor.
"You're faster than I expected," she said, landing lightly on a frozen spire. "For a human."
Ashura smirked mid-step, his coat snapping in the surge of wind.
"That's your mistake. I stopped being human a long time ago."
The air trembled again—then vanished as both vanished from sight, their clash echoing only through shockwaves and flashes of color.
When they reappeared, Ashura was standing over her shattered frost barrier, blade pointed downward, black lightning spiraling around him like a storm made flesh.
Vynara's eyes flickered—shock and something like respect behind the frost.
"That power… that lightning," she whispered. "It truly is his."
Ashura tilted his head, expression unreadable.
"Then you should understand why I can't stop. I'm not his heir. I'm his continuation."
The frost queen stood, brushing shards of ice from her shoulder, her expression softening faintly—just for a heartbeat.
"Perhaps… that is why he chose you."
Before Ashura could answer, the storm above split open, revealing a dark sun flickering behind the clouds—an omen that made even Vynara pause. The black lightning on his halo reacted violently, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Ashura looked up, eyes gleaming violet. "Looks like the heavens are still watching."
Vynara's voice lowered, almost a whisper. "Then make them remember why they feared the storm."
He raised his sword again, the amethyst and black lightning intertwining until they formed a single radiant flame.
And as the next clash began, the world outside the Frosthorn Domain trembled.