The Night's Fire-flaught (and 8 other winter stories)

The Ice Sheet

There were cracks beginning to form, the ice mere seconds away from snapping under the pressure put upon it. They tried to grab them, but it was too late, they were under. They followed after them, diving in, the water hitting them like a boxing glove, flooding their body with feelings of fear and pain. But they pressed on.
The water felt like it went down for miles, their body falling ever farther. But they pressed on.
It became so dark and cold and tough that they may have gone blind and had no sense of direction or touch. But they pressed on.

There was a light from down below, and they assumed it was their friend, so they pressed on.
As the light got brighter, so too did they, and so they pressed on.
The pressure was fading, the breath leaving them after what felt like days, so they pressed on.
It was right there, against their fingers, which strained to touch the light, now as bright as the sun. Exactly as bright as the sun, and just as hot. They broke through the surface, climbing out of the water, bringing the ice with them in chunks, their friend standing there, confused and frightened. They looked down.   

There were cracks beginning to form.