The Moonpetal Vale whispered secrets on the wind, shrouded in mist and shadow. Olivia stepped through the silver fog, drawn by an ancient pull—toward a stone whispered of only in forgotten myths. It was said to grant powers tied to the soul of the one who touched it. And Olivia’s soul burned with purpose.

  She needed to defeat Medusa, the Gorgon who guarded the Gorgon Eye—a relic that could unlock paths to the past and the power to bend time. But her blade alone would never be enough. She needed something more.

  After hours of searching, Olivia found it—beneath the roots of a frost-covered willow, where no frost should grow.

  The stone was smooth, round, and shimmering with pale blue light. As her fingers closed around it, everything changed.

  A surge of cold swept through her veins—not painful, but powerful. Her breath came out in fog. Her skin shimmered like frost-kissed glass. Ice laced across her arms, forming elegant patterns like snowflakes dancing on frozen lakes.

  She dropped to her knees.

  And then she rose.

  Olivia was no longer just a warrior. She was something more. Something colder… sharper… unstoppable.

  ---

  The Temple of the Gorgon stood like a wound in the mountainside, its pillars cracked, its statues frozen mid-scream. Olivia stepped inside, frost forming beneath her feet. Her mere presence brought winter with her.

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  She was close.

  The sound of hissing echoed off the walls. Then—Medusa.

  Hair of serpents, eyes of stone, voice like a curse.

  "So, the girl comes bearing winter," Medusa sneered, slithering into view. "Let’s see how long your ice survives fire."

  She struck first, swift and wild. Olivia dodged and swept her hand across the floor—ice burst forth, forming a frozen shield. Medusa’s claws scraped harmlessly off the frost.

  With a roar, Olivia raised her hand. Icicles rained down from the ceiling, sharp and glittering like spears of the heavens.

  Medusa screamed as one grazed her arm.

  But the Gorgon wasn’t done.

  "You touched the Ice Stone," she hissed, circling. "Do you even know what it truly is? That power once belonged to me."

  Olivia’s heart skipped.

  Another trap?

  "No," Olivia whispered. "It belongs to the one strong enough to control it."

  Her eyes flashed, and she summoned a blizzard inside the temple. Snow swirled violently, and Medusa’s serpents froze mid-hiss.

  "Look into my eyes!" Medusa screamed one last time.

  Olivia raised a mirror of ice—reflecting the cursed gaze right back at the Gorgon.

  In a flash of green light and silence, Medusa turned to solid stone.

  Cracks split her body. The ancient monster collapsed to dust, leaving only her throne… and on it, the Gorgon Eye.

  Olivia stepped forward, frost trailing her every move. She took the Eye into her palm. It pulsed once—twice—and then quieted, as if accepting her.

  She had won.

  But as she turned to leave, the ice on the walls whispered. A deeper voice, colder than even her new power, echoed in her mind:

  “You have awakened the frost within. But the Ice Stone… was only one of five.”

  Olivia froze.

  Five stones?

  A new path had opened.

  A new danger loomed.

  But now, she had winter on her side.