Far into the north, far, far into the north of Equestria lies a village called Boreal Hills in the nearly unhabitable frigid wasteland. There is a lonely, solitary place located a hundred miles from the riming village, wedged between split earth. Where the howling wind rages with fury, and the cold becomes a bitter frost, Wince Farust, Lord of the Frozen North is said to live inside his castle overshadowed by a black aura.
Ancient tales told of the Ice King are few and far between. Stories depict him as a cruel and tyrannical despot while others inform of a lovable sovereign who ruled with an iron hoof that put himself second before his people, but one thing is for certain all who live in the hoarfrost region can agree on: Wince Farust has a heart colder than ice.
Theorizers believe that this is because Wince may have had a wife and she perished, leaving his heart frozen, unable to feel any emotion. It is impossible to confirm what is true and what is fabricated since the path to his castle is inaccessible due to a terrible, raging, eternal blizzard that attacks any creature who attempts to visit the castle, turning them into ice sculptures. One could see centuries-old citizens frozen in place from endeavoring to make their journey to the castle.
Despite the dangers of traveling to the Castle of Frozen Glass, a single, lone pony was making his way towards it. He wore a bluish-cloaked garb that the citizens of the Frozen North use to walk around the frigid region, believing to help stave off the bitter cold with such a scant garb; it provided minimal amounts of comfort, but comfort, nonetheless.
As the stallion drew ever closer to Wince Farust's castle, the icy winds and frost did not affect him in the slightest, passing the many ice statues of those who tried. Time passed and the stallion came face-to-face with the black aura that enveloped the castle, and with a touch of his hoof, a door materialized, allowing the stallion to precede forth.
The castle itself, a deep blue, crystal-like structure, held itself high with a sort of ancient mysticism from a day of yore that continues to persist. The stallion went up the white steps and passed through the large gates, heading into a garden of white flowers where clumps were covered in frosty rime. When the gates closed behind the stallion, he withdrew his snow-covered hood to reveal a long flowing mane of white, a white beard, a coat of faded obsidian, and eyes that shimmered with sapphire. His face was stern and severe as he trotted around the castle, heading upstairs to the second floor.
The stallion felt something call out, almost like it was pulling him. He eventually stood at a door pulsing with black, shadowy tendrils. Without fear, the stallion opened the door and he saw nothing but black. It was moving, creeping, and breathing as he entered. The stallion stood in the middle of the room, the door firmly slamming shut behind him.
"I had already told you I wasn't going to be gone for long; It has been a mere three months and you're cross with me?" he said calmly.
The creeping darkness warped and contorted, sending a low rumble as if apologizing.
The stallion shook his head and sighed quietly. "Have you forgotten? Something was taken from me during my slumber. I was in the crowd, disguised, and I left without notice. Not a single pony suspected me as Wince Farust, and how could they? From what I learned, they think I'm dead, presumably."
The darkness roared in anger, vexed, and furious.
Wince put his right hoof in front of his face. "Calm down. Can you blame them? It has been quite some time. No pony can reach my castle, not anymore. How can I reveal myself to the world at this point?"
The darkness let out a low rumble, curious at what Wince Farust was saying.
For a brief second, Wince took on a weary expression before steeling himself. "I am aged... and Equestria has altered so much since my absence. I need a plan. For now, reveal yourself to me."
The darkness obeyed. Coming out of the walls were black sludge-like arms and hands, pulling something out of the darkness. A dark head emerged from the warping darkness, then a snowy body, thrown to the floor with a wet and squishy impact. It was not a pony, but something otherworldly, something appalling that writhed. Such a disgusting scene would send revulsion and disgust to any who laid eyes upon it. The creature had two jet-black arms with five fingers. The lower half of the body was shrouded by darkness. It wore a type of pitifully ripped frock or robe. Its long hair was a shining black and it glowered with blood-red eyes. It took the form of a woman.
The monstrous abnormality lurched across the black floor like a daemon, latching her fingers onto Wince's tattered cloak, making the way up to his face where she opened her mouth and sent her long, pendulous tongue across his chilly cheek.
Once the eerie aberration was done, she retracted the loose tongue back inside her mouth and started speaking in some archaic tongue; an unintelligible and broken voice, producing guttural sounds and grating noises, and yet, somehow, Wince could understand her perfectly.
"Bermuda," Wince began, "the Astral Darkness, my companion, will you not join me in hunting down the fool who stole my possession from me?"
Bermuda caressed and stroked the body of Wince Farust, accepting his invitation to bring the thief to justice and recover the item that was stolen.
He smiled, albeit for a short time. "Good. We leave immediately. We must retrieve my opal, lest the Frozen North will be a mockery of a name. Let's go."
Bermuda and Wince left the castle on the quest.
Accompanied by Bermuda shaped like a black bandana around his neck, the Ice King journeyed to Seaward Shoals to find a stallion named Verines, a pony who worked with Wince during his time as a youth. Unfortunately, when Wince got to Seaward Shoals, it had been changed dramatically, and it reminded the old stallion that he wasn't in the past anymore; however, he scanned and browsed for the house of his old friend before settling his eyes on a familiar-looking building with a brown exterior and red roof and hurriedly made his way towards it.
Wince Farust saw a mature stallion splitting wood, assuming the stallion helps build the many ships he saw when he searched for the house. Cloaked in typical Frozen North attire, though quite aged in appearance, Wince marched up to the stallion, hoping to get some answers.
"You there, boy," he called out with a firm tone.
The stallion was startled by the Ice King's voice. "Uh, what can I help you with, sir?"
He pointed to the house. "This house... did it not belong to a stallion named Verines?"
The stallion nodded. "Ah, it was, but that was 300 years ago."
Wince was mildly whelmed, stepping back at the realization. "300 years...?" he muttered. "Have I truly been asleep for that long?"
"What do you mean?" the stallion asked, rubbing his head in confusion. It wasn't until he got a good look at Wince that he become even more curious. "Hey... you look familiar. You look like that ice king guy from the books. What was his name? Wince Farust or something? Wait a minute... No way!"
Wince gave the stallion a small scowl. "Lower your voice down, boy. And you're right, I am Wince Farust, Lord of the Frozen North."
The stallion was taken aback by this revelation. "But how? I thought you were dead like the stories tell."
Wince huffed, "I went into a deep slumber. When I awoke, the state of the Frozen North was in an imbalance, and I found that a relic that I held dear had been taken away from me. That object helps keep the Frozen North the way it is. I'm on the quest to hunt down the thief."
"I understand, but why are you here in Seaward Shoals?"
"My old friend, Verines, kept special items and relics stashed away inside his house. One of them is a tracking device that I hope is in use."
The stallion smiles warmly. "My ancestor always had a knack for cool objects."
"Ancestor?" Wince asked. You're his... descendant?"
The stallion nodded, puffing out his chest in a prideful manner. "The name's Vern, the last known descendant of Verines, the Great Tinkerer. His blood flows through my veins, and I have been acting as Keeper to his prized possessions as my father did, and my father's father before, and so on."
Wince Farust placed a hoof on his magnificent beard. "I never knew Verines had time to settle down and conceive an entire legacy. I missed so much over the centuries."
"My forefather spoke very highly of you from what I was told by the stories my family told."
Wince let out a small chuckle. "He was a good stallion. Do you think he kept the tracking device?"
Vern beamed at Wince's question. "Yes, sir!" he said, saluting. "Verines always liked to keep his trinkets and treasures in top condition. Come on, let me show you where they are hidden."
Vern led Wince to the back of the house, showing him a temple smaller than the actual house where Verines stashed the many trinkets and relics he had created over his entire lifetime. Vern guided Wince inside the temple where he saw rows of objects locked away in glass cases.
Vern showed Wince the tracking device Verines created. "Here it is, one of my forefather's greatest creations: The Spirit Tracker," he announced joyfully. "This little device is capable of finding a living creature no matter how far or how faint their magical signature is. Although it doesn't tell their exact location, the Spirit Tracker always points you in the direction of the creature you're hunting, and it is up to you to figure out how to get to them."
Wince Farust let out a tiring sigh. "It was one of the first objects Verines ever crafted. He was just a colt when he found his talent. This object will allow me to hunt the thief down."
"My ancestor knew his stuff, making so much. It's great!"
Wince agreed. "He was a smart young stallion. What about you, boy? Do you share his passion?"
Vern's smile faded slightly. "Oh... I don't have the same mechanical prowess as Verines, sir. I just look after everything."
Wince shook his head. "That's very unfortunate, boy."
Vern laughed it off. "It's nothing. Hey, what's that around your neck?" he inquired, gesturing a hoof to Wince's neck. "I don't remember the stories saying anything about a bandana."
A small smirk somehow found its way to the Ice King's face. "Let me show you. Bermuda."
Vern rubbed his head again. "Who?"
In an instant, the air grew heavy, the light became dim and gray inside the temple. Bermuda shifted out of the bandana and latched herself onto the temple walls, spreading a writhing, breathing darkness that enveloped everything. Vern shouted and fell on the black floor in shock as he witnessed the upper body of Bermuda hugging Wince's neck. He's never seen a creature like Bermuda, but she looked tamed and docile.
"What in the hay is that?!" he cried out. "What is that?!"
"This is Bermuda; an ancient shroud of darkness given form. She was by my side when I awoke. She has no memory of her past, but she follows and obeys me without question."
Vern had to close his mouth from gawking at Bermuda, but it kept opening back up. "Holy... That is insane!"
"Boy, I want to thank you for assisting me in my journey. I'll use this tracking device to its fullest extent."
"No problem... sir."
Wince countenance went back to being stern. "I also want you to keep your mouth shut about me. All I want is my relic, nothing more; I've no interest in lurking around a time I do not belong."
"Yes, sir! I hope you find the thief."
"I will. The Frozen North needs that relic, and so do I. Farewell. Bermuda, conceal yourself."
Bermuda shifted her form back into a bandana that latched firmly around Wince's neck. As quickly as the darkness came, it left. Vern took a deep breath, being able to breathe. Wince Farust left Vern and continued on his quest to find the thief now using Verines's Spirit Tracker.
Wince Farust left Seaward Shoals and activated the Spirit Tracker on the outskirts. The object itself is a metal-like circular beacon with an interface that shows an arrow pointing in a direction, functioning closely to that of a compass. It has a set of numbers ranging from 1 to 100 and letters to punch in.
When activated, as the name suggests, it tracks the spirit of a living creature no matter how far or how faint, however, Vern did not know of another feature only Verines and Wince knew about: it can track objects and can reveal the name of whoever currently possesses them. Knowing about this secret feature, Wince spelled the object stolen from him inside the Spirit Tracker and after a couple of minutes of waiting, the Spirit Tracker highlights the name of the object stolen: the Blizzard Opal.
The lustrous gemstone is special; it makes the Frozen North what it is, and now that it has been taken from Wince. He believes without the Blizzard Opal, the Frozen North will shift. The stone is in a city called Manehatten, but looking at the name of the thief who took the stone made Wince's glassy eyes grim.
"Surtur..." he uttered quietly. "Why does that name irk me so?"
Whilst pondering, a puddle of bubbling darkness stained the grass as Bermuda shifts out of the bandana. She falls onto the black puddle, standing, and arching over Wince like a colt to a dragon. She spoke unintelligibly. It was a curious sound.
"Wait... I'm starting to remember now. Surtur was... He was a king, one of the first to that place of heat and sand; the blistering desert; Saddle Arabia. But that cannot be... Surtur was a normal pony, yet his name appears on the Spirit Tracker."
Bermuda gargled and spoke with a warped tone. Wince listened and he almost agrees with what Bermuda thought.
"His name is being used by another. That would not be unless Surtur had children, and his children had children, creating a legacy, as Verines did. A descendant of Surtur who uses his name... Bermuda, we make haste to Manehatten."
Bermuda uttered with a low whimper.
"Yes, we will go under the cover of night. The streets will be barren, not a single soul awake except us and the thief. Stow your concern, Bermuda. I know you can't stand in the light in your real form for too long. Change back into the bandana and rest. It's time to go."
Bermuda obeyed Wince's orders without delay and shifted back into the bandana and hung around his neck.
Wince continues the trek to the eastern coast towards the location the Spirit Tracker guides him, Manehattan, and as the hours rolled by, the day became night; the moon has risen over the sky. Wince Farust has made it to the island by crossing the long railroad bridge connected to the Equestrian mainland.
The moment Wince steps into the city and makes his way to the center where the Spirit Tracker led him, he heard nothing, as he imagined. No voices, no sounds. The street lights flickered and a warm wind flowed silently through the empty streets. He had journeyed to the more solitary sections of the city.
"Although I imagined no pony to be around this late at night, I expected something to prove me wrong. Wait... The Spirit Tracker is blinking."
The Spirit Tracker beamed a light towards a bar at one of the ends of the thoroughfares. Traveling to the bar, Wince saw a dull light shining dimly on a run-down sign depicting a drunken earth pony guzzling apple cider. With no time to lose, Wince strolled into the bar and witnessed tons of burly stallions in messy and stained clothes drinking and talking to one another before setting their eyes on the old stallion.
"Well, at least there's some life to prove me wrong," he mumbled.
The stallions had never seen a pony like Wince before, but they recognized his Frozen North attire. How rare it was seeing a citizen of the almost barren Frozen North travel so far from home. Most ponies from the Frozen North can't even handle the drastic change in climate with reports spanning many years ago of those who tried having been either hospitalized or dead due to their bodies not adapting well to the warmer environments.
Despite the many stares Wince was receiving, he ignored them and made his way to the bartender. Once he got close enough and sat at the bar table, the bartender rolled her eyes with a labored sigh, spit shining on a wooden mug.
"Don't mind the spittle; some of these stallions like the extra grit. What y'all want to drink?" the bartender asked. "You Frozen North types don't have much to choose from other than the Northern Cider."
Wince Farust shook his head. "I'm not here to drink. I'm looking for a-"
"If y'all aren't here to drink, then get up and get your wrinkly ass out of my establishment. If you want to talk, hurry up and buy a drink," the bartender rudely spat out. "You aren't going to sit your chilly ass in here without ordering something."
Bermuda started to rumble and growl with contempt for the bartender, but Wince quickly calmed her down before responding to the bartender.
"Fine, I'll take the Icy Cider," he decided.
The mare gave a small grin. "Good choice, ya old coot." The bartender whipped up a Northern Cider for the stallion. Chilly, shaved ice and chillier cider filled the mug as a cool mist rose out of it. "Now what in Tartarus do you want for making my bar quieter than a hangout at a cemetery?"
"I'm looking for a certain pony by the name of... Surtur."
Though vastly uninterested in whatever Wince's qualm pertains to, once he spoke of Surtur, he gained her full attention. "Surtur?" she asked incredulously. "You are looking for him?"
The Ice King nodded seriously. "Yes. He is in this city and I must confront him."
The mare gently put the mug she was shining on the counter. "And why is that, if ya don't me asking?"
Wince Farust didn't answer immediately. He looked to the side and back at the mare. "He took something from me while I was... absent. It's a relic of mine."
The bartender bitterly snorted. "Yeah, I know of who you're flappin' on about, but I don't rightly know if I should tell you where he is."
Wince raised his brow, slightly bewildered. "Why? Do you work for him?"
The mare let out a brisk chuckle. "I don't work for no stallion," she huffed. "Take a look around, ya old coot." The stallion shifted his gaze towards tables upon tables of other stallions with meaty builds before turning back to the bartender. "Them there be stallions littered across this here bar, and they ain't rotting away just for looks, ya know. These sad sacks worked for Surtur at one point, and at the other, he left them to hang and dry. Now they just work in this city on the infrastructure. Others weren't so lucky."
"What do you mean?"
The bartender rubbed her face and groaned in vexation. "Listen to the tone of my lingo, old coot. The others aren't 'round here no longer."
Wince's brows furrowed. "He killed them?"
The mare shrugged. "Don't know, probably 'cause I haven't seen them around. They were all crooks and bandits, so I don't feel bad for them. Hay, Surtur did me a favor, those stallions didn't pay for their drinks. Rat bastards sure got their comeuppance."
"What type of pony is Surtur?"
"He is a nigh unforgiving unicorn. He takes what he wants and those who oppose aren't seen again. He... he has a firm grip on my bar and comes here often... almost too often, sometimes to see me and other times for business."
Wince lightly chuckled. "I thought you didn't 'work for no stallion.'"
The mare glared at the old stallion. "I don't, ya dumb horse, but I can't deny Surtur what he wants or he'll burn my bar down. It took hard work and time to get to where I am, and if I have to listen to that stallion to keep my dream, you bet your high horse I'll keep it."
"Surtur runs a tight ship. What about you and him? You said he comes to see you."
"I'm a piece of flesh to that stallion. I can't deny his service. He's... gracious on some nights and demanding on others. As I said, Surtur takes what he wants."
"I see... You're his-"
The mare quickly leaned forward and got up in Wince's face. "Shut your mouth, ya stale piece of crust," she said threateningly before rearing her head away. "Anyway, said you wanna know where he is?"
"Yes."
The mare gestures to a flight of stairs off in one of the corners of the bar. "He's right upstairs, third room from the left. If you came here for a scuffle, then give that son-of-a-bitch a firm ass-kicking. I'm not happy about what I have to do to keep my bar, so if you can do anything about this shitty situation, free drinks and rest for a lifetime."
Wince tilted his head. "You don't even know who I am."
The mare laughed. "And I don't rightfully give a damn. All I need to know is that it's personal and you that can help me."
"I won't be responsible for what happens after I meet him."
She waved it off. "I'll overlook the damages. You'll be doing me and my bar a massive thanks."
Wince Farust bowed his head in appreciation. "Thank you for the information."
Wince got up from the bar and headed upstairs to the second floor. The bartender yelled at the stallions drinking to get out before things heat up, a term everypony in that bar knew too well. She looked at the Northern Cider she made for Wince, untouched.
"Hmph. That's the first time no pony drank what I made."
The confrontation between Wince and Surtur is underway. This could be the chance for Wince Farust to reclaim the Blizzard Opal.
As Wince got upstairs and made it to the room the bartender said Surtur would be, he took a deep breath. The Ice King wants back what is his. Opening the door, Wince saw three stallions counting money while another was looking outside a window viewing the barren streets of Manehatten. Wince announced himself and only the three stallions counting the money stood up from their chairs in a violent manner.
"I'm looking for Surtur. I was told he would be in this room."
"What ya need from the boss?!" one of the stallions spat at Wince.
Another one stomped his hooves on the floor. "You best be on your way, old man. We don't take too kindly to folks asking about the boss."
"We break bones and crush limbs, and if you want to keep yours, leave!" the other stallion threatened.
Wince Farust sighed and gave the three stallions a dejected look. "I don't have time for your threats. Surtur took something from me, and if you think a bunch of crooks is going to prevent me from taking back what is rightfully mine, you are sorely mistaken. I am Wince Farust, the Ice King of the Frozen North!" he shouted with pride.
He took off his hood and revealed his glowing eyes and white flowing mane. Underneath his attire was a chilling mist that slowly engulfed the room. The three stallions were stunned as he gestured his hoof in a swiping motion, sending the cold mist to push and carry the stallions through the window, sending them sprawling out on the streets.
All the ponies outside the bar yelled after witnessing the three stallions knocked out cold. Inside the room was one more stallion. His mane was burning red and his coat was orange. He carried around a small sack that inside was an item that glowed with a pulsing bright blue light.
Wince's eyes shot up. "That must be the Blizzard Opal! Surtur!"
The stallion chuckled and turned around, his eyes shrouded behind red sunglasses. He wore a devious smile across his face. "Well, well, well... look at what we have here. A king far past his prime," he said, taunting Wince. "You shouldn't be here, hay, you shouldn't even be alive! You aren't like Princess Celestia."
Wince's eyes gradually narrowed. "Give me the Blizzard Opal."
Surtur ignored Wince's demand. "I wonder how you persist... how you haven't turned to dust. Perhaps, maybe, a certain relic keeps you intact, yes? Perhaps the one inside my burlap sack."
"Surtur, I won't say it again. You saw what I did to your men."
Surtur nodded. "Indeed, I saw clearly, but I don't care about those fools. They are all puppets, so what if you managed to cut some loose? I know why you are here... it was only a matter of time, however, I thought you would be dead by now. It seems that taking the relic isn't quite enough."
"I just want what is mine."
Surtur chuckled and pointed his hoof at Wince. "It's no longer yours. How are you feeling, Ice King? Don't you feel tired?"
"I'll be fine once I take back the Blizzard Opal."
Surtur scoffed and sneered at Wince Farust with a disgusting grin. "You'll have to kill me to get it." A burst of flame ignited around the two stallions, dissipating the mist and causing Wince to stumble back at the radiant flash.
Surtur chortled and mocked him. "Can't stand the heat, Ice King? I wonder if you'll melt..."
"Gah...!" Wince cried out. "Surtur, why are you doing this? What can you possibly gain?"
"Once, I wanted to see the world burn, Ice King," he uttered grimly. "When I couldn't, I took what made the Frozen North thrive, and, in turn, commenced your death sentence and condemned the entire land."
Wince Farust's eyes solemnly narrowed. "So... you know."
Surtur displayed a punchable smirk. "The stories ring true. You are tied to the Frozen North, and this rock you hold so dearly in your heart is the cornerstone of it and your life. A little king who wanted to rule over his piece of pitiful land with those foolish enough to follow him. Now that the Blizzard Opal is away from the Frozen North, it's only a matter of time before it melts and floods Equestria."
"Surtur!"
The distasteful stallion held that devilish smile. "That region has enough ice and mountains more than anything else in the entire world, and if they were to melt, it will be able to deluge everything. As much as I want, the world cannot burn, but I can drown it."
"So that's your plan... to send the world into a watery grave? You won't succeed."
Surtur waved his hoof dismissively at Wince, saying, "I already have. By now, the Frozen North is melting. For you, death is coming every minute. Soon you won't be able to use your powers. You'll become slow and sickly, then you will drop to the ground and die, and before that happens, the last thing you'll see is me taunting you."
"You're mad," Wince announced. "It's hard to believe you are a descendent of Surtur. How you prance around using his name... It's disgraceful."
"Never mind that now... You face the Pyreburner."
Wince glowered. "I'm taking you down."
"Don't be so sure, Ice King!"
With a smooth stomp of Surtur's hoof, a wave of flame ignited towards Wince which he blocks using ice magic.
"I wonder what will win: your ice or my fire."
"We'll see."
Wince inhaled the air and blew out a torrent of icy wind, hitting Surtur and pushing him back towards the window. Surtur laughed and punched the walls, sending streams of fire around Wince. The intensity of the flames weakened Wince, but with quick thinking, he encased himself in ice and shattered it, purging the flames. Wince began looking fatigued.
"Oooh, you don't look so good, Ice King. Your age has finally caught up to you. Princess Celestia is still in her prime despite being hundreds of years older than you," he jeered.
Wince huffed and stood tall. "I may not be an alicorn, but I'm as close to one as you'll ever see. Don't count me out yet, boy. You haven't seen anything I can do."
"Do I detect a hint of pride or maybe arrogance?"
"Assurance is the better word, boy."
"Then a little bit of insurance is required."
"Scared?" Wince questioned.
Surtur laughed. "Quite the opposite. I hope you can do two things at once."
Surtur threw the burlap sack to one of his underlings hiding in the crowd. He ordered the stallion to run away deep into the city alleyways. The lackey took the sack and ran, and as much as Wince wanted to pursue, Surtur was keeping him locked down with a fire spell, forcing Wince to summon a thick dome of ice to protect himself.
Surtur marched up to the glacier wall and set a hoof on its surface channeling heat. The harder he pressed, the weaker the glacier became. Behind the towering glacier, Wince Farust called upon Bermuda to seep out into the ground. Shifting out of the black bandana, she landed on the floor, creating a puddle of blackness as she slowly rose over Wince, almost as tall as the glacier.
Surtur saw an immensely large silhouette of a creature behind the glacier wall, pulsing in and out. He was beholden with awe.
"What in Celestia's name is that thing?"
"Listen to me, Bermuda," Wince bade seriously. "Surtur gave the sack with the Blizzard Opal inside to one of his lackeys. He fled into the alleyways. Hunt him down and take the Blizzard Opal before he gets too far. I'll hold off Surtur."
Bermuda sounded like an alien, blaring and gurgling at Wince.
"I know you don't want to leave me, but this is important. If we don't get the relic, I, and the Frozen North will perish. Get it back."
Bermuda cried out in a worrying tone, but the urgency and seriousness in Wince's voice prompted Bermuda to seep into the ground, like a shadow, and head into the alleyways.
"What was that?" Surtur wondered.
Wince shattered the glacier wall with a tap of his hoof, almost catching Surtur off-guard, forcing him to jump back.
As the Ice fell, Surtur saw Wince Farust standing strongly, and he smiled again. "This is going to be fun."
"Silly boy... To think you would do all of this. To drown the world of Equestria, wanting to cast it all under the water. No creature needs to hear your words, your speeches..."
Surtur felt an eerily frigid presence emitting from Wince. Frost slowly started to develop around the streets, the street lights started to flicker rapidly and die. Everyone from the bar that was watching ran far from the fight to gaze out to a safe distance.
"You and I are in the same boat, Ice King."
Wince Farust sighed as his horn glowed blue. "I know I'm not a good stallion, but I have morals, a grand service to this world, and all you have done is jeopardize what I am here to maintain and look after."
"So what? Are you going to kill me?"
Wince regrettably shook his head. "No. Princess Celestia and the current king of Saddle Arabia will deal with you, but not before I turn you into an ice sculpture."
Surtur's horn ignited in an orange aura. "You think that will happen?! Die, Ice King!"
The fierce fight between Wince Farust and Surtur rages on, neither one of them getting the upper hand over the other, dishing out blow after blow, turning the streets of Manehatten into a field of ice and flame; particles of twinkling snow and fading embers fritters in the air slowly.
Surtur jumped back and repositioned himself. "You've put on a daring ice show, but it won't be enough. You cannot beat my fire, Ice King."
Wince Farust glared at Surtur angrily. "Don't be so sure, boy," he said. "I'll be the one to extinguish those flames."
"Fire has an inherent advantage over ice, so how could you even hope to win?"
"Quiet, boy."
Surtur laughed evilly. "Oooh, cold as ice. My fire is hungry, Ice King, and your corpse will be the one to feed it."
Wince coated the ground in a chilling frost with his hoof. "Bring it on."
Wince Farust stomps the ground with his hooves, sending out a trail of large icy spikes that erupted from the ground toward Surtur. The villain cackled and trotted in place so quickly, that flames burst around his hooves and he jumped onto the sides of the buildings, galloping across them and around Wince trying to outrun the ice spikes.
Surtur left a trail of fire across the buildings until he slammed down next to Wince, creating a point-blank explosion, however, the Ice King shielded himself with frost but it wasn't enough as the shield shattered, knocking Wince across the street and smashing into a building.
Surtur carefully paced his breath, sweat trickling down his face. "You have me all worked up; let the flames ignite." He blew out of his mouth a stream of fire that engulfed the rubble Wince was trapped under, covering him in a large blanket of blazing flame. Surtur cackled and held his right hoof up high.
"Thanks for the laughs, Ice King. Now, back to-"
From the rubble, a beam of ice and frost hit Surtur square on the chest. He yelled in pain as ice accumulated upon him, freezing his chest and exploding with blood gushing out, propelling him into a building.
From the burning rubble, Wince stumbled and stood bleeding from his forehead, panting and aching. "Argh... That was too much. Must... finish it before he gets up."
Wince trotted slowly forward, gradually summoning ice magic from his hooves, however, a sudden sharp pain drove him towards the ground, coughing up blood with steam coming out of his mouth and back. "No... not now!"
As the dust cleared, Surtur is seen, eyes half-closed, chuckling with his chest busted open, blood streaming from it and his mouth. "Heh... heh... guess death finally caught up to you. It's only a matter of time!" Surtur painfully conjured sparking embers to envelop his chest, gradually healing himself. "You're gonna burn, Ice King..."
As the fight is brought to a temporary standstill, Bermuda was giving chase to the stallion that ran with the Blizzard Opal. As the stallion ran, he saw a shadow with blaring red eyes gunning toward him, and he began to slowly panic as black emanations erected from the encroaching darkness; sharp and rugged tendrils.
One by one, the stallion dodges them, but the strikes were progressively getting faster and faster, and eventually, they struck the stallion, knocking off his hooves, and slamming him into a wall. The sack with the Blizzard Opal falls to the ground, but Bermuda wasn't going to just take it and leave.
The stallion started to weep with fear as Bermuda rose from the ground, taking the form of a black creature with dagger-like fingers and teeth sharp as knives.
"N-no! How are you doing this?! Stay away from me!" the lackey howled.
Bermuda shot her hand forward, clasping it around the stallion's mouth as her knife-like fingers scraped his face and burrowed into his skin. The black tendrils slowly wrapped around the stallion's body; a thick-cutting agony escaped his lips as the bloodletting appendages drew the thick crimson from the stallion. From the legs, the stomach, up to the throat, and then to the head the tendrils grasped firmly.
The stallion was tied down with the serrated tendrils raking his flesh; the tendrils were grinding against him and rotating, slowly getting tighter. The felon's muffled anguish hollered and shouted, trapped like a rat.
His rapid breathing and raspy throat were being filled with blood and mucus as Bermuda inched her face close to the stallion's opening her mouth, speaking in a gargling, vicious, disconnected voice. "On eno lliw erah rouy smaercs. On eno lliw nruom ouy. Eid."
Darkness flooded in from all sides around the stallion, dampening his vision. He cried out one more time before Bermuda's black tendrils forced his body to flatten and collapse in on itself, effortlessly crushing him with blood erupting from the stallion's body before being devoured by Bermuda.
After it was over, there was naught a single trace of blood or struggle. Bermuda picked up and looked at the Blizzard Opal from inside the sack and stood still with a face of sadness. She then carefully cradled the Blizzard Opal silently before making her way back to Wince Farust.
Wince was in pain, his ailing body giving off steam. He began to sweat and held his chest in pain where his heart would be and found that he could not get up without the Blizzard Opal in his possession. Surtur, now slightly rejuvenated from his embers, marched up to Wince and smirked.
"Well, well, well... look who came out on top. Me! I'm going to enjoy burning you to a crisp."
Wince struggled to speak, but he was able to utter a few insults. "Surtur... you are a foolish boy, unfit to bear Surtur's name."
"I don't care about the throne any longer. With you gone, no pony will know about my plan. I'll even kill the small crowd watching us; I don't want to leave any witnesses."
"Surtur!"
"Die, Ice King!"
Surtur began channeling a fire spell from his hoof to incinerate Wince Farust, but luckily, Bermuda appeared from the shadows and clenched her hand around Surtur's neck, choking him. Both he and Wince saw the sack with the Blizzard Opal inside.
"You did it..." Wince said softly.
Surtur attempted to release himself from Bermuda's killer grip but to no avail. "Argh... What is that thing?! Let... go!"
Bermuda threw Surtur on the ground, cracking the concrete. She wrapped herself around Wince gently and presented the Blizzard Opal to him. The blueish white stone, attached with strings of powerful frost, glimmered near Wince, invigorating him, removing his pain.
When Wince grasped the stone, he saw a flashback of himself and his wife smiling together. He felt her warmth and almost cried. "My dear, sweet Talia. Thank you, Bermuda."
Bermuda let out a soft gargling sound and caressed Wince's face with hers.
"You must be tired. Shift back into the bandana and rest. You've done enough."
Bermuda obeyed Wince's command gaily. Wince got up and stood over Surtur's aching face, disgruntled and disappointed.
"Stop looking at me like that. I failed. So are you going to turn me into a statue?"
Wince Farust sighed. "If Surtur could see you, he would be distraught that one of his descendants turns into a piece of shit."
Surtur scoffed. "Screw. You"
"He would turn a blind eye to this next action and even thank me for it as it will serve as a fitting punishment."
Wince blew ice and frost over one of Surtur's right foreleg, freezing it, and then lifts his hoof and shatters the leg into pieces sending a wave of agony from Surtur as he writhes on the ground. "My leg!!!" he howled woefully. "You crazy bastard!!! Oh, sweet Celestia!!!"
"I'm not a good pony and you nearly killed me and doomed the entire world, so I don't feel bad. I won't feel bad about this either."
Wince knocks out Surtur by slamming his head against the ground. He picks him up and puts him on his back. The small crowd of ponies, with the bartender, thanked Wince for stopping Surtur, announcing free drinks for everypony. All of them, except the bartender, went inside the bar to celebrate.
"Holy hay, old guy!" the mare exclaimed happily. "You sure gave that shithead a good ass-kicking. Thank you for stopping him. If you didn't, things would have gotten much worse."
Wince Farust glared at the unconscious stallion. "He wanted to drown Equestria by melting the Frozen North. With my relic back in my possession, there will be no cause for worry."
The bartender looked at the unconscious stallion with disgust. "Jeez, what an insane idea. Why does your relic prevent the Frozen North from melting?"
"The Frozen North is a place of magic and the Blizzard Opal is the only relic that keeps it the way it is."
"But did you know it would melt the Frozen North if removed from the region?"
Wince nodded. "It's linked to me," he answered.
"Woah..." the bartender said. "Then you better mosey on back there and keep us safe."
Wince Farust nodded. "I intend to."
The bartender smiled before it turned back into a frown from looking at Surtur's ugly mug. "What are you going to do about the jackass on your back?"
"Take him to Princess Celestia and explain what happened. From there, the king of Saddle Arabia and Princess Celestia will provide the punishment. I have to go."
"I see. Well, thank you again. Come back for a drink sometime."
Wince shook his head and simply said, "Can't."
The bartender waved it off. "I'll always have a seat open for ya in case you change your mind. The stallions here in the bar will cover up the damages to the road. Catch ya later."
"Thank you. Farewell."
Wince Farust left Manehatten and traveled to Canterlot Castle. By the time he got near the throne room, dawn had risen to the sky and he saw Princess Celestia returning from raising the sun. When she saw the Ice King, Princess Celestia was in shock, but Wince quickly explained everything to her.
After learning about what happened, Princess Celestia ordered the guards to escort Surtur to the dungeon to await further punishment. Thereon finishing preparations with Surtur, Princess Celestia wanted to talk to Wince but saw that he was leaving out the gates and quickly flew after him.
"Wait! Wince!" Princess Celestia shouted.
Wince Farust turns around and faced the alicorn with a sullen expression. "What do you want?"
"To apologize all those years ago... I never got the chance before you left for the Frozen North."
"You're sorry for what?" he asked, but then Wince realized why. "Oh... that."
Princess Celestia bowed in forgiveness. "I am sorry that I couldn't save her, Wince. My magic... wasn't enough. I am sorry I couldn't save your wife."
Wince Farust told Princess Celestia to rise, telling her she shouldn't bow to him. "Another regret that we both have to live with," he sadly said. "Talia was a good mare, a better pony than I was... what I could never truly be. The Blizzard Opal shares shards up of my broken heart; and the sweet memories of Talia surge within it... the unfettered love we once shared. That's why I treasure it so... it's the only thing I have left of her."
"I know... Will you come back one day?"
Wince Farust kept quiet for a few seconds, trying to find the words. "I'm... not sure. This is a much different world than I once knew. The Frozen North has never changed and that is the place where I belong."
Princess Celestia sunk her head in remorse. "Oh... I-I see."
"Tia," Wince began, trotting up to her and setting a hoof on her right foreleg, "Talia doesn't blame you for her death all those years ago. It was nice seeing you one more time."
A small smile found itself on Princess Celestia's face. "To you as well."
"Also," he started, giving Princess Celestia the Spirit Tracker, "have someone return this device to a stallion named Vern in Seaward Shoals. It's from an old friend..."
Wince Farust left Princess Celestia and headed back to his castle in the Frozen North. Entering his home, Bermuda shifted back into her original form. The Ice King went upstairs to his bedroom and sat down, setting the Blizzard Opal on a desk with a picture of his wife, Talia. Bermuda then loomed over his head.
"Keep watch over the castle, Bermuda. I'm returning to my slumber," he uttered faintly. "I wish to forever dream about my lovely wife."
Bermuda obeyed Wince's orders. With the Blizzard Opal back in its rightful place, Equestria is once again safe.