Midnight Frost

The beam of Maxwell's flashlight cut through the midnight murk, catching on the hoarfrost that encased the fairway. Beside him, Daniel's breath plumed in the frigid air, his eyes wide as he scanned the trees for any sign of movement.

"Quiet as a tomb out here," Maxwell muttered, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness. "You sure this is the right spot?"

Daniel nodded, his gaze fixed on the strange ice formation that jutted from the snow like a skeletal hand. "The reports said the sightings always happened near this hole. If the Phoenix is going to show, it'll be—"

A sudden gust of wind sliced through the air, carrying with it a sound like the cracking of glaciers. The detectives spun, their lights converging on a figure striding across the frozen turf.

"Evening, detectives." Kenneth Oetker's voice was as cool as the night air. "I see I'm not the only one drawn to the course tonight."

Maxwell lowered his flashlight, his eyes narrowing. "Mr. Oetker. Didn't expect to see Art Dye's reigning champ out here chasing ghost stories."

Kenneth smiled thinly. "When you hold the Hyperborean Helix, you learn to expect the unexpected."

He raised his hand, and the detectives saw the spiral bag tag dangling from his fingers. In the moonlight, its crystalline surface glimmered with an unearthly sheen.

Daniel took a step forward, his expression eager. "The Helix—I've heard stories about its power. They say it can—"

"Control the cold?" Kenneth quirked an eyebrow. "Shape the very ice and snow? Believe me, the stories barely scratch the surface."

He turned to Maxwell, his gaze calculating. "There's more to this case than you realize, Detective Flynn. Forces at work that could reshape everything we know about Art Dye...and disc golf itself."

Maxwell met his stare evenly. "And I suppose you've got it all figured out?"

"Let's just say I've seen things that would freeze your blood." Kenneth glanced at the Helix, his fingers tightening around its ethereal curves. "Things like—"

A blinding flare of blue light exploded across the fairway, sending the men staggering back. The air itself seemed to crystallize, shattering into glittering shards as a massive, winged shape materialized above the frozen earth.

Maxwell felt his breath freeze in his lungs as he stared up at the impossible creature. Its body was pure, translucent ice, shot through with veins of pulsing cobalt fire. Enormous wings of fractured frost stretched into the night sky, their edges glinting like diamond blades.

The Ice Phoenix opened its beak, and the scream that echoed across Art Dye was like the shattering of a glacier. The sound seemed to pierce Maxwell to his core, flooding his mind with visions of an eternal winter that would swallow the world entire.

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the Phoenix vanished, leaving only a dusting of fresh snow and three shaken men in its wake.

Daniel was the first to break the stunned silence. "Did...did that really just happen?"

Maxwell holstered his flashlight with a trembling hand. "Looks like those ghost stories just became a hell of a lot more real."

He turned to Kenneth, his expression grim. "I think it's time you told us everything you know about that Helix...and the Phoenix it's connected to."

Kenneth met his gaze, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Gentlemen, I believe the real investigation is just beginning."

As the detectives followed him into the clubhouse, none of them noticed the slender figure watching from the shadows, her ice-chip eyes glinting with triumph.

Let the games begin, Elyse whispered, her breath frosting the air. Winter is coming to Art Dye...and this time, it will last forever.