Betrothed to Jack Frost: Fire's Fury **SOON TO BE PUBLISHED**

1)Macaria

A/N So here we are, Fire's Fury. It's hard for me to believe this series first started out in my head nearly a decade ago. 
 Happy Reading and thank you to every last one of you for your patience and your desire to read this story. You guys are awesome! Please hit me up in the comments how you feel about the rewrite of the chapters I'm sharing! Hopefully Wattpad stops giving me grief on trying to upload as it jumbled all the paragraphs together. 

Alycat

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Elle Darrow once met and fell in love with Jack Frost, a man she had previously thought only existed in the realm of make-believe and magic. An ancient prophecy had foretold that the two were betrothed to become husband and wife, destined to create an heir that would bring together the two clashing kingdoms of fire and ice. Fate was wrong. They were not two star-crossed lovers brought together to serve a greater purpose. They were just two people who fell in love and then fell apart.
On the day of their wedding, Jack Frost banished his new wife from ever stepping foot in his kingdom again.

Elle was never able to find love again, as she stopped believing in it. She decided to go back to school and earn her bachelor's degree in literature. Later, she earned her master's degree and became a well-known professor at a prestigious university. For several decades, she lived a happy and fulfilling life. Unfortunately, as she grew older, she lost her only family. Her grandparents passed away when they were seventy-nine and eighty-four, respectively. Her best friend Lucy Donovan died of cancer when she was in her seventies. Although Elle still spoke to Lucy's children and grandchildren occasionally, they were the only family she had left. However, she never spoke to the immortals again. After being banished from her husband's kingdom, it seemed like no immortal could communicate with her anymore.

The godparents and friends she had made during her journey of falling in love with Jack simply disappeared from her life.
Still, Elle went on to do every mundane human thing she could think of to live a long and happy life. She traveled to exotic countries, and she took up dozens of hobbies that kept her occupied throughout the years.
That night, many years after her dealings with immortals, Elle found it physically painful to pull herself out of her rocking chair. Old age and chronic hip problems had made it impossible for her to walk to the bathroom. It was nearly midnight, and the strike of the clock would indicate that January 21st had arrived. Elle had been living in a retirement home for the last twenty years. She was too old to drive and too frail to live alone in her small one-bedroom condo. As she approached her hundredth year, Elle could feel the end of her life coming. After leaving the small bathroom, Elle felt a sharp pain in her bones. That was when she noticed someone, or something, waiting for her in the corner of the room. Something not human.

"He wanted you to go on without him, knowing you would one day die not being an immortal," spoke a voice as melodious as the breaking dawn, its beauty striking Elle with unfamiliarity.

Struggling to straighten her posture, Elle winced in pain as she attempted to stand upright. Her tired, cataract-clouded eyes scanned the dimly lit corner, seeking the source of the enchanting voice. Emerging from the shadows was a woman, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Elle from six decades prior. With luscious, coarse brown locks cascading down her shoulders and skin as pale as chalk, her eyes gleamed a mesmerizing ruby red. Approaching Elle with a smile that carried a hint of cruelty, the woman's presence exuded an aura of calculated intrigue.

"How does it feel?" she murmured softly, her gaze fixed upon the aged Elle, akin to the predatory scrutiny of a cat observing its prey. "How does it feel knowing that Jack Frost did not keep you, did not allow you to become immortal, and kept you a soft weakling easily killable at any moment?"

Elle said nothing, knowing there was no use to call for help. Her death was expected; inevitable. She always knew her immortal elder sister would come to kill her. She merely figured Macaria would come many decades sooner. "What would have been the point," drawled Macaria cruelly. She could read Elle's dwindling mind. A sinful smile grew across her porcelain face. "Kill you? My darling girl, you have spent over seventy years living in your own filthy misery. You dwell in your own inner hell. You are alone and unloved, as you have been forever and always. There was no point in killing you before now."

Elle looked at her leathery hands, the bluish veins sticking out of them. Her fingers were old and disjointed. Her body was weathered and tired; only growing weaker as the more time passed. Macaria was suddenly no longer a beautiful woman. Her face turned into a horrifying skeletal creature. She lunged at Elle's throat and proceeded to rip it out.

***

Elle's scream jolted her awake from the depths of her nightmare, her breath ragged and beads of sweat clinging to her skin. With trembling limbs, she stumbled out of bed, hastening to the vanity mirror for reassurance. Despite the shroud of darkness enveloping her room, the moonlight streaming through the windows offered enough illumination to confirm that it had been merely a night terror.

Her hands, still quivering, reached for her face, tracing the contours with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Gone were the telltale signs of age—no sagging skin, no wrinkles etched with time, no blemishes marking the passage of years. In the mirror's reflection, she beheld a visage of youth, akin to a woman on the cusp of her twenty-second birthday. Her lips trembled with the remnants of terror.

Though relieved to discern the truth of her reflection, Elle couldn't shake the unsettling realization that the nightmare was becoming more recurring.
A sigh of relief escaped Elle's lips as she continued to gaze at her reflection, reassured by the absence of the nightmare's haunting visage. Yet, her moment of solace was abruptly shattered as the door to her bedroom burst open, causing her heart to race with renewed apprehension.

However, the source of the intrusion proved to be nothing more than her best friend, charging in with a metal baseball bat gripped tightly in her hand, her expression tinged with a hint of mania. As Lucy Donovan's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she lowered the defensive stance of the bat, her features softening with familiarity.

With a flick of the switch, the bedroom was flooded with light, revealing Lucy's bemused expression. "I'm not sure why I always bring the bat," she confessed, a soft chuckle punctuating her words as she shook her dark, curly head. It was clear she was referring to the recurring episodes of Elle's nocturnal distress, now a familiar occurrence. "You okay, girl?" she inquired, genuine concern coloring her voice.

Elle was back to living in her grandparents -now slightly- renovated farmhouse. Lucy Donovan was staying with her the next three weeks given Grace and Thomas Darrow were on a couple's cruise touring Alaska.

"Yeah,I'm great," lied Elle, her voice sore from her screaming. The dreamstarring Macaria was recurring; something that was happening far too often asof late to write it off as pure coincidence.
Lucy watched her with worried eyes. Elle put on a polite smile to not worry herfriend. She tried to hide her shaking hands after wiping away the cold sweatthat had broken out on her forehead. There was no way to tell her the problemsthat plagued her. Lucy wouldn't believe the truth for what caused Elle to havehorrid nightmares nearly every night. It was too unbelievable for anyone tobelieve.

Lucy stayed in Elle's room for several hours to comfort her. The two engaged incasual conversation, discussing a variety of topics ranging from current eventsto Lucy's possible new haircut or whether they should go out for breakfast ortry a new recipe from Pinterest at home. Elle knew that Lucy was only trying toalleviate her anxiety. She often woke up screaming in the middle of the night,and Lucy was concerned for her friend's well-being.

Enough time passed that Elle calmed. She was thankful Lucy stayed with her.Once an hour passed and sleep finally won Lucy over to fall asleep in Elle'sbed instead of going back to the guest bedroom, Elle laid down as well. But shedidn't sleep. She didn't dare pull her covers over her or try to go back into adeep slumber. All she could do was stare up at the ceiling and wonder if herdreams of her own demise by her half-sister's hands held any truth to them.
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