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    Winter comes as the frost maiden’s train. The clouds are the billow of silk in her stride. The snow falls upon the land and leaves the glittering beauty of white.

    The maiden’s voice rises, the soft song which tugs at and shakes loose the last crinkling leaves, beauty ephemeral passing as it may only once in each turning.

    On comes the winter. On comes the snow. See its glitter, look in awe upon the hills laid to rest ‘neath the blanket of white.

    See the mortals, telling their tales round the fires, the nurturing blessing of belief, winding to the skies. Feel the smoke that rises and crackles with the meat of sacrifice. This is the maiden’s offering, that all her attendants might partake of.

    Faeries shrieked and called out to one another over Hanyi’s voice as she built herself up.

    The mantle of spiritual power Ling Qi had drawn about herself was spooled into the figure Hanyi was making of herself in the whirling column of snow ahead. Her stage was the hilltop, slick now with ice. She was tall now, taller than Ling Qi, with a white gown as elegant as her mother’s and whipping white braids dissolving into the snow and wind at the tips of her hair. In her hands were fans of transparent ice etched with patterns in blue and black, fluttering before her face and accentuating her dance as she sang.

    Hanyi was going to be a dangerous spirit when she grew older.

    The shrieking laughter was lesser now. The faeries of the snowstorm were flickering and ephemeral, mostly first realm but some on the verge or peaking into the second. They bobbed and tittered, entranced and hungry. They were small vessels, but they were cold, and the cold was never far from the darkness and hunger. Such a meal as Hanyi sang of was no small offer.

    A shard of ice cut through the air and shattered against one of Hanyi’s fans. It was the first of many, pelting the hill. Each one carried mockery and derision.

    “City-thing, man-thing, soggy witch, these hills already sing, a beauty greater than thy own!”

    Up in the clouds, Ling Qi saw the ripple of blue fabric, hands on hips, wings of ice, and an inhuman face, featureless but for eyes of solid blue radiance, descending from the higher peaks in response to her sister’s song. There was more to this one, a core of frozen power rather than a diffuse ball of snow.

    Hanyi’s song didn’t cease, but her eyes narrowed to white slits of affront.

    Ling Qi wouldn’t call the line that rang out next discordant, but…

    “O, who approaches? Who stands before the maiden? Feckless flake, be on your knees!”

    A screech, yes, like nails on glass or the scream of a high wind. There was no way to describe what happened next in elegant terms.

    Little faeries scattered and giggled madly, blown end over end by the wind. Ling Qi’s hair whipped out behind her, a ragged, fluttering black banner as she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the backwash…

    … Of Hanyi’s heel striking the ice faerie dead across its featureless face, a picture perfect flying kick.

    There was a screech of affront. Ice shattered, jagged, icy blue hair was crinkled and broken, pure white locks were yanked, and fingernails scrabbled, plunging through ice and slush and cloth that reformed immediately in its wake.

    … Ling Qi was pretty sure that even if one used fans as weapons, they were not actually supposed to be wielded like clubs.

    The two fighters hit the earth in a plume of snow and dust.

    Ling Qi sighed. She wished Sixiang was here; they’d probably be rolling down the hill, laughing their head off. Still, this was Hanyi’s show, and she did tell her junior sister that she would let her handle it.

    The lesser faeries whorled overhead in the eddies of snow, dancing around the scuffle going on below.

    “Who’s soggy now, you—”

    “Cheater, cheater! Using the ground is not fair!”

    “Huuuuuuh? Fair? What, are you stupid? Don’t challenge the maiden if you don’t wanna eat mud!”

    “Iiiiit’s in my eeeeeeeyes!”

    Ling Qi found herself pinching the bridge of her nose in a way distressingly similar to what Cai Renxiang did when Ling Qi herself brought the heiress something outlandish.

    Hanyi stood triumphantly atop the ice-slick hilltop. One bare foot had been planted between the shoulder blades of the ice faerie, grinding her face down into the mud churned up by their scuffle. The faerie was roughly at the peak of the second realm. Given what Hanyi had said, this type of spirit was probably what Hanyi had meant to draw out in the first place.

    Still, her junior sister was being a little… crude.


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    “Hanyi, she can’t listen to your words if you embed her entirely in the hillside,” Ling Qi interjected.

    Hanyi, whose braids were whipping about her head, cheeks puffed out, stilled like a statue at the sound of her voice.

    “Y-yeah! I know, Big Sis. ‘M just making sure she’s ready to listen,” Hanyi replied quickly.

    She did not, Ling Qi noted, let up the pressure on the heel grinding down on the greater faerie’s back.

    Her junior sister jabbed her now folded-up fan at the other faeries circling overhead. “You see? Nobody has to eat mud if they listen! I’ve got way better things for you to eat. And I’m way prettier than this slushy reject, yeah?!”

    The clouds overhead churned and boiled, but one current was obviously stronger than the others.

    “Look around. See how pretty the hillsides are. Even on your own, you did this.” One fan snapped out, trailing glittering flakes. “But it could be better! If you follow me, we can play on the regular every winter and get treats for doing what we’d do anyway.”

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