elementals, not bugs you can just step on!
“Run!” Glacier shrieks as the Chancellors’ Guard advances on her. The sound of crunching ice echoes from outside the window, as Glacier is swooped into thick arms, hers pined to her sides.
“I have the girl,” the guard speaks in a calmer, though still loud, voice. Glacier’s ear rings at his shout.
Easily lifting her feet off the floor, he walks out of the room. His tight hold is uncomfortable and strenuous on her lungs as she tries to breathe past the rigid grip.
Once the two of them have joined the crowded living room, Glacier notices her dad reading a glass tablet with a frown on his face.
When he hears the footsteps of the man holding his daughter, he glances up with an outraged sneer.
“Take your hands off my daughter! You have no right!”
The man standing proudly in front is a skinhead, standing straight with the other two flanking either side of him in military hats and uniform identical to the man behind me. Beside the man in the centre of the room, are two other men.
Skinhead speaks calm and collectively, “Actually Mr Wardgrave, with the warrant you're holding, you have no say in the matter. Any attempt to impede us will be considered a deliberate act of treason.”
He is the man who had spoken earlier .
His smug tone and opaque grey dress uniform indicates to Glacier that he is a highly ranked guard in comparison to his colleagues. His hands are clasped loosely against his torso. His flanking officers have theirs behind their backs, their gazes forward.
Glacier’s eyes catch sight of the pistol sitting against the skinhead’s belt. The hover disk it floats against glows ice blue.
She swallows thickly at the sight of the weapon. A bead of sweat forms above her unscarred eyebrow.
The skinhead turns, finally acknowledging Glacier’s presence. She remains tightly held in the arms of the brutish guard, as the bald man scans her with beading eyes.
The man tuts at her appearance. “My, my. You copped a rather violent beating, didn’t you my dear?” His voice seems playful as he jokingly states the obvious.
Glacier gives no reply. She only glowers in his direction.
He ignores her childish frown and continues, “I am High Chancellor Guard Thomes. I have been sent by Chancellor Staren to collect you.”
Her father continues to fight them, “I understand why you men are here, but you have no official grounds to take her on!”
Her father’s eyebrows are creased with worry, his lips pulled in a menacing frown. Distressed.
“The Chancellor of Hydren requesting the presence of Miss Wardgrave is plenty grounds, Mr Wardgrave.” Thomes smug smirk has Glacier’s molar’s grinding with irritation.
What in the bloody world does the Chancellor want with me ?
Trying to shake away from the guard, a quiet groan escapes Glacier’s lips when he squeezes against her injured shoulder and back.
Thomes claps his hands together, a wicked smile on his lips. “Officer Bogg, please escort Miss Wardgrave to the car––”
“She’s not going anywhere!” Kellen shouts.
Everything quickly erupts in chaos.
Glacier watches as her father’s hand rises in front of his body. The glass of water on the coffee table quivers, the liquid dancing against the edges.
The water spills up from the glass as Kellen’s arm rises, his fingers spread. His eyes blaze a brilliant blue, as the water weaves around the room, before suddenly driving up the nostrils of the two men behind Thomes. They gag on the water as Glacier’s father drowns them, his fingers slowly clenching into a fist.
A small pop booms past the choking gasps and rushing water.
The water falls to the wooden floor like heavy rain, leaving large messy puddles. Glacier’s body retracts, trapped in her chaotic mind, as everything around her happens much too quickly to comprehend.
Kellen’s eyes dim to their original dark blue. They meet Glacier’s briefly before he falls forward, hitting the ground