Cryos

I was just a normal boy who lived a normal life. Adopted into a family I didn’t know, my birth parents a mystery, I had always dreamed of being a journalist, an explorer. Then I flew far from home, crossing endless fields of snow, my breath freezing in the air. I swam my way through the freezing water until the city emerged before me; I was trembling. Towers of crystal and silver spiraled into the clouds, glowing faintly with blue fire. Bridges arched across frozen rivers, streets shimmered under pale light, and even the snow seemed to hum with magic. Everyone who passed was breathtaking tall, flawless, with flowing white hair and piercing blue eyes. They moved like living statues, every face sculpted to perfection. Everyone gasped as if expecting me. I didn’t know why they bowed and cried, saying I had arrived. Then the alarm erupted a sound like loud, beautiful shofars, piercing and mournful, rolling over streets and spires, haunting, yet triumphant. Guards with snow-pale hair seized me, their grip like iron. My camera clattered to the ice; a boot crushed it, grinding every image I’d captured into shards. I was dragged through the vast city, shoved into a hall of crystal stretching to the sky. The Argathian language rang sharply, melodically, but I could not understand a word. Panic burned in my chest until one voice cut through in English. “You’ve come far. Too far.” He stepped from the throne, robes of sapphire trailing, hair like snow, eyes like a storm. Everyone bowed. Their king. And I froze not knowing I, born with black hair, was the only one cast out. Not knowing he was my twin, chosen, royal, beloved. Not knowing I too carried a crown, a lesser king in another world. His eyes locked onto mine, and a question gnawed at me: Am I the chosen one… or the fool trapped forever