The dungeons were dim, damp, and unbearably cold—though the chill didn't bother Frost much. It was the suffocating darkness that gnawed at her. She stretched her wings as far as the cramped space allowed, longing for the warmth of the sun or even just the open sky. The stale, briny air was a far cry from the sharp, clean winds of the icy peaks she used to call home.

Food was sparse, and what little came was hardly appealing. Slimy seagrass and soggy kelp were shoved through the bars on a regular basis. Frost poked at the latest pile with a claw, wrinkling her snout in distaste. RainWings might have enjoyed this kind of greenery, but for her, it was a far cry from anything resembling a decent meal.

Her companions in misery didn't offer much in the way of conversation, either. Riptide and his father, Webs, were slumped against the far wall of the cell, their faces shadowed with guilt and weariness. They'd been thrown down here as punishment for aiding the dragonets, apparently—a crime Frost couldn't muster the energy to care about.

"Great," she muttered to herself, flicking a strand of kelp off her talon. "Stuck in a dungeon with a SeaWing family drama I didn't sign up for."

Riptide glanced over, his blue-green eyes dull but faintly curious. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Frost raised a brow at him. "It means I'm not interested in whatever royal soap opera got you two locked up down here. I've got enough problems of my own."

Webs let out a weary sigh, his tail dragging against the damp floor. "If you're trying to make friends," he said dryly, "you're doing a terrible job."

Frost snorted. "Friends? I have friends, thank you very much. They're just... not here right now." She paused, her thoughts drifting to Tsunami, Clay, Glory, Sunny, and Starflight. She missed them more than she cared to admit—their chaotic energy, their unshakable hope, their belief in a better future.

Her claws tapped against the stone floor as she stared at the barred window high above. The faintest glimmer of light filtered through, teasing her with promises of freedom. She shifted uncomfortably, her icy scales catching the dim light and refracting it in pale, frosty patterns.

"So," Riptide said after a long silence, "what's your plan? You seem like the type to have one."

Frost turned to him, her expression flat. "My plan? My plan is to not rot in this dungeon. Beyond that, I'm open to suggestions."

Webs chuckled weakly, a bitter edge to the sound. "Good luck with that. The Queen doesn't exactly let prisoners stroll out of here."

Frost's eyes narrowed. "Then it's a good thing I don't exactly ask for permission."

Riptide exchanged a glance with his father, a flicker of hope—or maybe exasperation—crossing his face. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious," Frost said, her tone as sharp as the ice she once commanded. "I didn't survive Darkstalker, Queen Scarlet, and a bunch of dragonets with a talent for attracting trouble just to waste away in this glorified fish tank."

She stood, shaking the dust from her scales. Her claws clicked against the stone floor as she paced, her mind already whirring with possibilities. Escape wasn't just a hope—it was a necessity. And if these two SeaWings wanted to mope around, that was their choice. But Frost had no intention of sticking around to see how long it took for the dungeon to swallow her whole.

The faint sound of waves crashing against the rocks above echoed through the dungeon, a cruel reminder of the freedom just out of reach. Frost tilted her head, her frosty eyes gleaming with determination.

"Enjoy your kelp," she said, her voice tinged with dry humor. "I'll let you know how the sun feels when I get out of here."

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Frost blinked awake, her icy blue eyes narrowing at the sudden intrusion of light and movement in the dungeon. The SeaWing guards loomed over her, their expressions varying between boredom and mild distaste. She stretched out her wings slightly, groaning as the cramped confines of the cell reminded her why she hated this place.

"The queen wants to talk to you, Frost," said Seagrass, his tone as flat as the damp stones under her claws. His snout wrinkled, as if just speaking to her was offensive. "Don't know why."

"Neither do I," Frost muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe she wants my recipe for not caring."

Seagrass ignored her comment, flicking his tail in annoyance. "Kelp," he barked, motioning to the other guard, "shut off the waterworks."

Kelp moved to a lever on the far wall, pulling it down with a grunt. The fountain of ocean water that had been cascading into the dungeon slowed to a dribble before stopping entirely, leaving the room eerily quiet except for the distant echo of waves. Frost watched as the eel moat surrounding her cell stilled, the slick, wriggling creatures disappearing into the depths.

"Well," she said, standing and shaking the dust from her scales, "that's one way to ruin the ambiance."

Seagrass rolled his eyes, stepping aside as the cell door creaked open. "Let's go," he said sharply. "The queen doesn't like waiting."

"Neither do I," Frost said, lifting her chin as she strode out of the cell with a regal air that belied her current status. She walked between the two guards, her tail swishing behind her. If she was about to face yet another queen with a penchant for theatrics, she'd at least do it with some dignity.

As they made their way through the winding corridors of the SeaWing palace, Frost couldn't help but notice how the blue-green glow of bioluminescent algae seemed to soften the harsh stone walls. It was beautiful in its own way, but it did little to distract her from the knot of unease tightening in her chest. Queens didn't summon prisoners for casual chats, especially not ones with as much baggage as her.

"Any hints about what she wants?" Frost asked, glancing at Seagrass.

He snorted. "Do I look like someone who gets to ask questions?"

Frost smirked. "You look like someone who enjoys telling others what to do. Close enough."

Kelp chuckled softly, earning a glare from Seagrass. "Quiet," he snapped.

Frost couldn't help but smile to herself. At least she could still annoy someone, even if she was technically a prisoner. As they approached a pair of massive coral-encrusted doors, her smile faded. Whatever awaited her on the other side wasn't going to be pleasant. Queens never called you in for good news.

"Here we are," Seagrass said, motioning for Kelp to push the doors open. "Try not to make her regret not keeping you in that cell."

"Thanks for the advice," Frost replied, her tone as icy as her name. She stepped forward, the coral doors parting with a groan, and prepared herself for whatever awaited her in the queen's chamber.