Ice and Fire (7)

Aiden Crossfell quietly stared at the thin beam of light filtering into the darkness.

Though the prison was spacious, the place where he had settled was a damp corner heavy with moisture.

The birdsong coming through the fist-sized window sounded especially grating today.

‘I’d like to pluck out every one of those feathers right now and burn them….’

Though tormented by such violent impulses, the bars of the prison, made of ice that would never melt, were not something he could break with his power.

At least for now.

Clomp, clomp.

Footsteps echoed through the prison as a cold chill seeped inside.

Aiden Crossfell did not bother turning his head toward the sound.

There had only been one person who had come to visit him over the past few weeks...