The spear flew toward Halorax, zipping through the air like an arrow from a bow. The crowd gasped as the frost spear coruscated like a shaft of radiating magic that illuminated the courtyard with neon blue light.

Halorax's eyes widened in fear, and his jaw dropped as he realized what Frost had done. Rather than resume their tug-of-war, Frostilicus simply let Hal win. Of course, that was after forming the tip facing Hal into a deadly blade.

A killing stroke.

The blade flew toward the wide-eyed student who witnessed his entire life flash before his eyes. Glom and Grub turned away in shock. Was this the end? Halorax was sure it was.

Recognizing his witless mistake, Hal screamed in fear. Adrenaline coursing through his body, he leaped to one side as the spear soared through the air at lightning speed.

It burrowed itself into his right shoulder, first gashing a hole through his frost armor, and then slicing through muscle, tendon, and sinew. The pain shot through Halorax's nervous system like a bolt of electricity.

It was excruciating.

The crowd gasped in shock at the sight. Halorax had narrowly evaded a spear through his heart, but it instead impaled his right shoulder — in one side and out the other. Could a spear even be that sharp? Apparently, it could.

Halorax yelled at the top of his lungs, his eyes bulging red while blood dripped out of his injured shoulder. His dominant right arm was limp and disabled. Looking around, he only saw silent students. The crowd that had once adored him, worshiped him, now stood looking on in shock. Was he a mere amusement?

"Help me," Halorax said, turning to Glom and Grub. His two friends were already gone. Had they abandoned him too?

He grasped at the spear with his left hand. His stomach turned in knots as he fell to his knees. The blood kept pouring out. He'd never felt this kind of pain before. It wasn't bearable.

His vision began to fade. If he survived this, what would he be? His family wouldn't accept him. He couldn't work a foundry with one arm. No one at Everwinter would respect him after this. In the blink of an eye, the curtains were drawn on his entire life. He was beaten. Humiliated. Destroyed. All because of some foreign scum. "Frost," he whispered to himself, clenching his jaw.

Then he blacked out.

Prisma stepped forward. "Get an Ice Medic," she said aloud, running toward the collapsed Halorax. "We need to freeze the wound, or he'll lose too much blood."

The crowd turned in on itself, calling for a medic.

Prisma ran to the fallen Halorax with all the earnestness of a healer. Several other students came forward to help. They placed their hands near the unconscious Hal's wound and together applied a simple freeze gauze to stem the bleeding. It wasn't that different than the trick Frost had used to stem his own blood flow.

The water around Hal's wound turned into a transparent sheet of ice, stymying the blood loss.

Prisma left the spear shaft in place. Something that would need to be dealt with later. As she worked, a woman in white robes arrived. "Master Ellana," Prisma said, eyes fluttering up.

"This wound is deep," Ellana said, kneeling down and examining Halorax. "But your work here is well-done, Prisma."

Prisma held back a smile. It wasn't appropriate to bask in praise. Not now.

"What happened here?" Ellana said. Her white robes fluttered in the light of the of the moon. Her brown hair rustled in the wind.

Everyone turned to look at Frost, who still wore Capscatian-styled frost armor.

"He attacked me," Frost said, open palms forward. "I defended myself." Was that a bad thing?

"That will be determined by a Court of Masters," Ellana shot back. She glared at Frost, narrowing her eyes.

Frost gulped.

Master Ellana returned her attention to the wound. "The spear," she said, examining the frost spear, still protruding out of each side of Hal's shoulder. "Has sundered his brachial artery. If we remove it, he will die without a proper amputation. We must get him to an infirmary now."

One of the students stepped forward and conjured a sled of ice. It was expertly crafted. Much better than Frost and Frolick's makeshift sled. Working together, the crowd lifted Halorax onto the sled.

Frost watched as the crowd dispersed. Rain continued to pelt him in the head and shoulders, soaking his clothes. A small group followed Master Ellana, pulling Halorax's unconscious body.

Prisma walked up to him and glared. Five, the look on her face made Ellana merciful, Frost thought to himself.

"What you've done here today was absolutely terrible," Prisma said. "You nearly killed him."

"It was self-defense," Frostilicus said. Did she not understand self-defense? "He attacked me. With that same spear."

"But he wouldn't have killed you," Prisma said, shaking her head. She placed her hands on her hips.

"You don't know that," Frostilicus said. "I've fought killers before. The only way to survive is to act on instinct before it's too late."

"That's exactly the problem," Prisma said, her eyes watering.

"What is that exactly?" Frost asked.

"You have a killer instinct," Prisma said. "That doesn't belong here at Everwinter nor anywhere else in Frosthaven."