Cold Trail

The crystallized disc glittered in Jaxson Wolfert's hand, its surface fractured with a lacework of frost. He'd found it half-buried in a snowdrift near the 7th hole, its edges jutting from the ice like the grasping fingers of a drowning man.

Jaxson shivered, and not just from the cold. There was something unnatural about the disc, something that set his teeth on edge and made his bag tag, the Glacierbound Tome, pulse with an eerie light.

He knew what he had to do.

Maxwell "Frostbite" Flynn cradled the disc like a newborn, his eyes tracing the delicate patterns etched into its frozen surface. Beside him, Daniel McIllece fidgeted with uncharacteristic nervousness.

"What do you make of it, Flynn?"

The grizzled detective shook his head. "I've seen a lot of strange things in my time, kid. But this? This is something else."

He turned to Jaxson, his gaze piercing. "Where did you find it?"

Jaxson swallowed hard, his hand unconsciously seeking the reassuring weight of the Glacierbound Tome at his side. "Out on the 7th. It was just...there. Like it was waiting for me."

Flynn's eyes narrowed. "Show me."

The 7th hole was a sea of white, the fairway blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. But as they approached the spot where Jaxson had found the disc, Flynn's experienced gaze picked out the signs of disturbance.

"Tracks," he muttered, kneeling to examine a series of imprints in the snow. "Big ones. And these marks...it's almost like something was dragged."

Daniel peered over his shoulder, his face pale. "Or something took off."

Flynn stood abruptly, his hand dropping to the disc at his belt. His eyes scanned the treeline, searching for any sign of movement.

"We need to get this back to the lab. I've got a feeling this is just the beginning."

In the darkness of the clubhouse basement, the disc pulsed with an eerie blue light. Jaxson watched as Flynn examined it under a magnifying glass, his weathered face set in a scowl.

"I've never seen anything like this," he muttered. "The ice...it's not natural. It's like it was flash-frozen, instantly locked in time."

Jaxson shifted uncomfortably, his hand straying to the Glacierbound Tome. As his fingers brushed its icy surface, a jolt of energy surged through him, and suddenly he was no longer in the musty confines of the basement.

He stood on a vast, frozen plain, the wind howling around him like a wounded animal. In the distance, a figure moved, its form obscured by the driving snow.

Jaxson squinted, trying to make out the details. The figure was tall, impossibly so, and as it drew closer, he could see the glint of ice crystals on its skin.

It raised one long, slender arm, and Jaxson felt the air around him grow impossibly cold. The figure's eyes met his, and in their depths, he saw the swirling chaos of a winter storm.

And then, with a rush of frigid air, the vision was gone, and he was back in the basement, gasping for breath.

Flynn was at his side in an instant, his hand firm on Jaxson's shoulder. "What is it? What did you see?"

Jaxson shook his head, trying to clear the frost from his mind. "I...I don't know. But whatever it was...I think it's coming."

In the shadows of the clubhouse, Elyse "Permafrost" Blackwell smiled, her icy gaze fixed on the basement door. The tome was awakening, just as she had foreseen.

Soon, very soon, the Ice Phoenix would rise, and the Art Dye course would be forever changed.

She slipped away into the night, her footsteps leaving no trace in the freshly fallen snow. The game, at long last, was afoot. And this time, she would not be denied her prize.