#EnchantedIce

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The Ice Sculptor Shaina Tranquilino December 6, 2024

Every winter, the town of Frosthaven held its renowned Winter Festival, a celebration of ice and snow that drew visitors from across the land. The festival’s centerpiece was always the work of Eira, the enigmatic ice sculptor whose creations were so lifelike, they seemed poised to step out of their frozen forms.

This year, Eira unveiled her grandest work yet: a sprawling tableau of animals from the frozen north—towering polar bears, sleek arctic foxes, and a majestic owl with wings spread as though caught mid-flight. The centerpiece was a magnificent stag, its antlers spiraling with crystalline precision, catching the light like a crown of diamonds.

The crowd gasped as Eira stepped back from her final touch—a faint smile playing on her lips. Snowflakes swirled in the crisp air, and the ice shimmered as though infused with its own light.

What the townsfolk didn’t know was that Eira possessed a secret gift. Her sculptures were not just beautiful—they were alive, imbued with a flicker of magic passed down through her family. The creatures were bound to her will, and as long as she remained in control, they remained harmless.

But this year, something changed.

As night fell and the festival reached its peak, a strange wind swept through the square. Eira felt it, a jolt of icy energy that coursed through her sculptures, severing her control. She gasped as the stag tilted its head, eyes glinting with awareness. One by one, the animals began to move.

The owl soared into the night sky, its wings scattering a flurry of snow. The fox darted through the crowd, weaving between startled festival-goers. The polar bears lumbered toward the food stalls, sniffing curiously. What began as awe quickly turned to chaos.

Children laughed and cheered, thinking it was part of the show, but their parents screamed as the stag reared, its hooves striking sparks on the icy ground. Eira’s heart raced as she pushed through the crowd, trying to regain control. She raised her hands, chanting the old words her grandmother had taught her, but the wind howled louder, drowning her out.

“Please,” she whispered, her breath visible in the frosty air. “You must return.”

The stag turned its head toward her, its crystalline eyes meeting hers. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, with a graceful leap, the stag bounded away, its shimmering form disappearing into the forest beyond the town. The other animals followed, leaving behind only the startled murmurs of the crowd and the faint imprint of their tracks in the snow.

Eira sank to her knees, the cold biting through her clothes. She had lost control of her magic, and with it, her creations. But as she stared into the dark forest, a strange sense of wonder filled her. The sculptures she had poured her heart into were no longer hers—they were free, living their own stories in the world.

The festival resumed, though a hushed awe lingered in the air. Eira stood apart, watching the snow fall and imagining her creatures roaming the frozen wilds. She knew she had a choice: to follow the path of her magic deeper into the unknown, or to stay in Frosthaven, crafting beauty for others to enjoy.

For now, she decided, she would stay. But deep in her heart, she felt the call of the wild, a whisper of adventure in the cold winter wind.