The Cursed Ice League (eBook)

S. Gordon (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
240 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-098283-4 (ISBN)

Infos

Kiora's greatest challenge isn't the ice-it's the game she's playing with her own heart.

In a world where icerift is more than just a game, Kiora is thrust into a deadly competition with her soul on the line. After receiving a chilling ultimatum from the mysterious Merrick, win the tournament or lose her soul, Kiora must confront not only the game's high stakes but the emotional turmoil brewing between two very different men.

Caught between her intense connection to Ryot, the brooding captain who is full of secrets, and Fenrick, the carefree surprise who's slowly wormed his way into her heart, Kiora is forced to navigate more than just the rink. As passion and power collide, Kiora must win, if only she knew how to win the game of her own heart.

With everything on the line, Kiora will be pushed to the edge of her limits, but one thing's for sure: she's not going down without a fight.

The Cursed Ice League is a tale of love, power, and betrayal, where every play could be your last.

And the only way out is to win.

Textauszug

1

Chapter 1

The roar of the crowd is a knife in my gut, sharp and unrelenting as I skate back into position. My breath clouds the air, mingling with the bitter taste of failure that’s already curling at the edges of my tongue. The puck glides toward me, fast and deadly, a bullet on ice.

It’s now or never.

I feel the flicker of magic in my chest, small and volatile, but it’s enough. Frost spirals down my arms, coating my stick with an icy sheen. My body moves on instinct, lining up the shot that could save us.

Except it doesn’t.

The frost sputters, flickering like a dying flame—and something goes terribly wrong. The ice beneath my skates creaks, groaning like a beast in pain. Cracks spiderweb out from my blades, a jagged line of ice that splinters across the rink. Players stumble, some crashing to the ground, as the puck skids wildly off course, spinning out of control.

The opposing team seizes the chaos, their striker slicing through the gap I’ve just created. In the next breath, the puck slams into our net.

Game over.

I’m frozen, staring at the destruction around me. The arena is silent for a beat, then erupts into boos and furious screams. My coach’s voice rings in my ears later, sharp and damning.

“You’re a liability, Kiora. You’ll never play professionally again. Get out.”

The memory of his words echoes as I sit on the edge of the rink, staring at the ice. Everyone else is gone. I haven’t moved for hours, my skates still laced up, my magic still burning faintly under my skin like an open wound.

They’re right. I’m done.

“Rough game, huh?”

The voice startles me, low and smooth, almost soothing. I look up, squinting into the shadows where the stands disappear into darkness.

A man steps forward. He’s not tall, but there’s something commanding about him, like he owns the space around him. His sharp features are offset by a friendly smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Who are you?” My voice comes out rough, my throat dry from hours of silence.

“Just someone who knows talent when he sees it.” His eyes glint, sharp and unnervingly bright. “And I see plenty of it in you.”

I laugh bitterly, gesturing toward the empty arena. “You must’ve missed the part where I just destroyed my team’s chances at winning… again.”

“Oh, I didn’t miss it. But that wasn’t failure—it was untapped potential.”

I blink. “Untapped potential?”

He leans forward, his smile widening. “Let me make it simple, Kiora. You’ve been cast out, dismissed, forgotten. But I’m offering you a second chance—a place where your magic can truly shine.”

“What do you know about my magic?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “I make it my business to know things. I represent a league—a special kind of league—where players like you can thrive. All I ask is your signature.”

A contract materializes in his hand, black ink gleaming against parchment that looks far older than it should.

I hesitate. “This… this doesn’t sound on the up and up.”

Merrik chuckles, low and warm. “It’s exactly as good as it sounds. But if you’d rather fade into obscurity…” He shrugs, turning as if to leave.

“Wait.” My voice cracks, desperation bubbling to the surface. “What’s the catch?”

His gaze sharpens, but his smile doesn’t waver. “The only catch is that you win. That’s all we expect in the Cursed Arena. Winners are rewarded. Losers…” He trails off, the pause deliberate.

I swallow hard, my fingers trembling as I take the pen. My name spills onto the parchment in shaky letters, the ink gleaming for a moment before vanishing into the page.

Merrik’s smile widens, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. “Welcome to the league, Kiora. I’ll see you soon.”

The chill hits the moment I step off the transport. The wind cuts through the thin fabric of my jacket, and I’m struck by how cold it really is here. It’s not just the kind of cold that makes your skin numb; it’s the kind of cold that creeps into your bones, settles into your chest, and sticks with you.

The camp sprawls in front of me, a mix of dark, imposing buildings and icy patches where players are already training. It’s like the entire place was built to intimidate, to remind you that you’re nothing but a cog in the machine. I swallow hard, my breath coming out in a frosty mist.

There’s no turning back now.

Merrik appears beside me, silent as ever, leading me across the cracked ice and toward the main building. His presence is like a shadow, towering over me even though we’re walking side by side. I want to ask a thousand questions, but the words get stuck in my throat, tangled in the confusion and dread swirling inside me.

“Welcome to the Shadow Blades,” Merrik says, his voice low and smooth, but there’s something off about it. Like he’s savoring the moment, his eyes flickering toward the players training in the distance.

I want to ask about the team, but I hold my tongue. For now, I just follow him inside.

The main building is colder than I imagined, and it smells of ice, sweat, and something metallic.

Merrik leads me through the shadowy hallways of the Shadow Blades facility, his pace steady, but the silence between us is suffocating. I can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on me as we move deeper into the building. Finally, he opens a door and gestures for me to step inside.

The office is dimly lit, with the faintest glow of ice blue from the rink outside casting long shadows across the room. It’s minimalist and cold—an environment that mirrors Merrik himself. A large desk sits against the far wall, papers and odd artifacts scattered across its surface. The room smells faintly of ice, like it’s been carved into the glacier itself.

“Take a seat,” Merrik says, his voice quiet but carrying an edge that tells me this isn’t just a casual conversation. I hesitantly sit in one of the chairs across from the desk, feeling small under his piercing gaze.

Merrik stands by the window, his back to me as he surveys the ice rink beyond. I can’t quite read him, but the way he carries himself—the air of control—makes me uneasy. He’s not here to hold my hand and make me feel welcome. He’s here to remind me of my place.

“You’ve made it this far, Kiora,” he says without turning around. “But the real game begins now. And I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “What do you mean?” I ask, the tension in my voice betraying the nerves I’m trying to hide. “You’re not making any sense here.”

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. But there’s something dark in his eyes, something predatory. “You really don’t understand, do you?” His voice is soft, almost soothing, but there’s an undercurrent of menace in every word. “You’re here because you signed a contract. And that contract comes with a price.”

I freeze, confusion turning to panic. “What do you mean? I signed up to play icerift again. Restore my status so I can get back to the real games.”

Merrik steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he leans against the desk, his eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, you didn’t read the fine print, did you?” he murmurs, a slow smile creeping across his face. “The Cursed Ice League isn’t just about icerift, Kiora. You’re not just here for the game. You’re here because you made a deal.”

My heart thuds painfully in my chest. “What deal?” I ask, the words barely leaving my mouth as I feel the weight of dread creeping up my spine.

His smile widens, cruel and calculating. “Your soul, Kiora. You traded it for a second chance to play again. And now… it belongs to me.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on me. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel the chill in the air sink deep into my bones. “No… that’s not possible. I didn’t—I couldn’t have—”

“Oh, but you did,” he interrupts, his tone like ice. “You were desperate, and I gave you what you wanted. Now you’re mine.”

I want to scream, to argue, but the words are stuck in my throat. This wasn’t what I thought it was. This wasn’t a simple second chance. I’ve been played, and I’m not sure I can escape the consequences.

Merrik watches me with that same dark amusement. “There’s only one way to get it back, Kiora. Win. Win the Cursed Arena, and you’ll have your soul again. But make no mistake—this league doesn’t play fair. You’ll be skating against the best, the most dangerous, and if you don’t make it… well, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough what happens to those who fail.”

I stand up, my legs shaky, and...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 31.10.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-10: 0-00-098283-0 / 0000982830
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-098283-4 / 9780000982834