Flower

By: Annie Li

Far away from the city’s bustling crowds, congested sidewalks, and the thunderous pulse of urban life that reverberated around every corner, so far that heaven and Earth were split by a single delicate thread at the edge of the world, an ethereal flower blooms brighter than any jewel, its petals pouring out a spectrum of colors that shimmered like liquid light.

No one knew of its existence, yet it alone held the power to keep the universe in balance.

Evangeline, weary of the city’s drab liveliness, wandered out aimlessly through the snow, dragged along by the soft luminescence of the flower, the only force that pulled at the last fragments of her consciousness. Though night had descended and the ruthless chill of winter had attacked her cheeks till they turned a flushed crimson, Evangeline pursued the glow incessantly, spellbound by the flicker of light before her like a moth drawn to a flame.

When she finally caught sight of that flower, her breath stilled.

All she had known, all the betrayal, neglect, and isolation she had suffered, fell away, relieving a burden she didn’t know she was carrying.

Evangeline stood still, allowing herself to absorb this precious moment; a moment where the world seemed to only consist of this effervescent flower. Its glowing petals and radiant sepals lured her closer to the vibrating silence it emanated.

She knelt beside it on the frosted grass, the bitter cold having seemingly disappeared. As if sensing her presence, the flower’s petals bloomed open and glimmered with a slight hue of vermillion velvet coated in a silvery sheen. A ripple of light gently floated outwards, embracing her like warm water. The air was flooded with the ambrosial scent of petrichor and molten gold. The harsh glare of the moon was softened as its glow shifted from grey to gold. The hostile gusts of wind lessened to a gentle murmur, eventually falling to a rhythmic cadence.

For the first time, Evangeline felt the warmth of love, though no one was beside her. Images of vivid memories rushed into her mind, though they didn’t seem to be her own. The edges of reality blurred, and the boundaries that separate the world from memories and magic blended together.

Evangeline knew those visions were impossible: she saw children whom she had never met laughing with her, friends strolling calmly with her under the stars, and siblings sharing ice cream with her on a hot summer day.

Yet they were just so undeniably real.

Gradually, the petals settled, the glow dimmed, and the world around her returned to its normal state. As she rose to leave, Evangeline no longer felt the agony she had endured for so long from never being truly understood by anyone.

A quiet certainty settled in her: some truths could only be known in places unknown to everyone else, places where heaven and Earth converge at the edge of the world.

Winter’s Calling

By: Saina Mishra

Winter came three weeks too early, creeping upon Aurelia’s town like a secret losing its patience, though something was amiss in the frigid air. Frost settled in on the window panes, crystallizing the towering evergreen trees and forming delicate shapes of crowns, wings, and strange sigils. Aurelia felt the cold more sharply than anyone else; the frost gnawed at her skin, clinging on to her as if it recognized her. She looked at the snow beside her and sighed sullenly; it was her sixteenth birthday. While other children celebrated and frolicked in the meadows with happiness, Aurelia grew up despising it as it was the day her mother abandoned her.

Everyone in the town knew the old belief: “on a person’s sixteenth birthday, the first snowfall whispered their destiny.” Aurelia always rolled her eyes at this tradition, assuming it was a winter myth used to entice little kids. But tonight, the wind moved differently. It moved with intention and urgency, sweeping through the streets as if it was searching for someone. A ray of light gleamed from the sky and sent a singular snowflake that drifted through the wind, spiraling until it landed into Aurelia’s hand; it carried a whisper through the chilly breeze. The snowflake glistened with her touch, shining brighter until she reluctantly moved her hands. It whispered.

“Aurelia…Aurelia”

Her heart staggered. It spoke again.

“Nivara..”

It was her mother’s name. Aurelia stared in disbelief, as resentment flooded her body, fueling her rage. Why did it whisper a name she had tried so hard to forget?

“Very funny, ” she muttered mockingly.

But the snow whispered the name again…and again until the sky itself started to rumble. A sudden fracture of sound tore through the frozen meadow. The Winter Crown, perched on the pillars of the aged thrown pillar, suddenly shivered as though it felt her presence. It toppled over and fell, landing on the snow before her and releasing a pulse of blinding light.

The forest shifted, the evergreen trees grew alive, the creatures scurried in the snow covered fields, and something was awake. From the trees emerged figures; they were regal silhouettes moving with astute grace. They stepped into the snow, appearing from the shadows of the evergreen, their forms shimmering with cloaks of swirling snow that trailed behind them as if the wind bowed to their presence. The Frost Spirits had returned.

“The thief.”

“She has stolen the Winter Crown.”

“The heir would never come as a mortal girl.”

Aurelia’s pulse hammered. “What heir? I–I didn’t touch it! It just fell!”

The spirits drew closer, their presence tightened around her like a rope. Before they could reach her, the ground trembled beneath them. The world felt like it would subside into pieces. A deep roar echoed through the forest. All the spirits turned, their faces collapsing in fear.

“The Winterband…,” one whispered.

“It has found her. It has returned.”

Aurelia’s heart slammed against her ribs. She stared into the distorted figure’s blazing eyes.

The shadow lurked from the trees, approaching them in search of something. Icicles cracked and crushed in its wake. The spirits backed away.

Aurelia’s father burst into the meadow, his eyes filled with panic and unease.

“Stay away from her!” he shouted at the spirits. “You will not take her…not again!”

Aurelia stared in shock. “Again? Dad, what’s happening?”

He swallowed, his voice breaking. His eyes failed to meet hers. “Your mother didn’t abandon you. She died saving you from that monster.”

She exhaled shakingly.

“She used her life to seal it,” he continued, pointing toward the shadow. “But the seal is failing. And the crown…” His eyes moved to it, full of grief. “It recognizes you. Just like she feared it would.”

The world shook. The whispers, the cold, and the crown were never a mistake.

“You are half frostborne, Aurelia,” he said. “Your mother was Queen Nivara of the Winter Realm. She gave her life for yours…she sacrificed herself for you. I lied to keep you safe from this world… and from them.”

The spirits bowed their heads at Nivara’s name, shame melting into repent and sorrow.

The monster roared again, much closer this time. Aurelia’s hands trembled as frost spread throughout her hands. The spirits exchanged a look.

“She must go to the Winter Palace,” one declared. “Only there can she learn the truth.”

Aurelia didn’t think. She ran toward the pillar where the crown had rested. The spirits followed; her father chased after her. Snow encircled them in a swirling tunnel, pulling them through the forest until they emerged before a massive palace made of frozen glass and ice.

A mirror of living frost awoke in her presence.

It showed her mother, Queen Nivara, fighting that monster, placing baby Aurelia into her father’s arms, whispering:

“Let her hate me if she must… but let her live.”

It revealed her mother’s final moments. The vision shattered. Aurelia stood trembling, chest tightening. She had hated a woman who had died for her. Now the choice was hers. Her tears ran down her frozen cheeks. Behind her, the monster’s distant roar echoed again. The crown rose into the air beside her, waiting for her. She hesitantly reached toward it.

Aurelia’s heart pounded as the monster approached. She raised the crown. Frost spiraled around her, looping along her arms. Light flared from the crown, striking the monster and freezing its limbs. With a final shriek, the monster retreated into the storm.

The spirits bowed. The crown hovered before her as if it had fulfilled its purpose. She touched the crown, recognizing it. The snow whispered again; this time it was not mocking, but welcoming.

“I accept,” she whispered.

The palace gates opened. The path to the Winter Realm stretched far ahead. The snow sparkled with magic. Winter wasn’t hunting her; it was calling her home. She was no longer the girl abandoned. She was the daughter chosen, the heir who would carry both worlds forward.

Artwork

The Demise of the Ice Kingdom – Anonymous

The Moon – Arthi Guruprasad