Chapter Text
The streets of Magix held no warmth tonight. Icy pulled her thin jacket tighter around her shoulders, cursing under her breath as another gust of wind cut through the worn fabric. The magical city's evening lights flickered overhead, casting strange shadows that seemed to mock her current state. Two years ago, she would have frozen anyone who dared to look at her with pity. Now, she could barely conjure enough magic to chill her own drink.
Her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she made her way home from another exhausting shift at the Hex Café. The irony wasn't lost on her – a former witch of Cloud Tower reduced to serving overpriced magical beverages to entitled fairy students. Some of them even had the audacity to snap their fingers at her, as if she were some common serving girl rather than the witch who had once made their predecessors tremble.
"Another day in paradise," she muttered, fishing in her pocket for the meager tips she'd earned. Barely enough for tomorrow's groceries. Darcy and Stormy wouldn't be happy, but they were all in the same boat now. No powers, no status, no choice.
The sound of laughter echoed from around the corner – the kind that made her skin crawl. Male voices, thick with malicious intent. Icy's first instinct was to walk the other way. Whatever was happening, it wasn't her problem. She had enough of those already.
"Come on, pretty fairy. Where's all that Winx power now?"
Icy froze. Something in that taunt made her pause. She edged closer to the corner, pressing herself against the cold stone wall of an ancient shop. The magical streetlamps cast long shadows, perfect for observing without being seen – a skill she'd perfected long before losing her powers.
The scene that greeted her made her breath catch. Three men, their magical auras reeking of low-level dark magic, had cornered a familiar figure against the wall. Red hair gleamed under the streetlight, but something was wrong. Bloom, the irritatingly powerful leader of the Winx Club, stood completely still, her eyes wide with fear but making no move to defend herself.
"Maybe she's saving her energy for later," one of the men sneered, reaching out to touch Bloom's hair. "Wouldn't want to tire herself out too soon."
Icy's fingers curled into fists. She should walk away. After all, wasn't this poetic justice? How many times had she dreamed of seeing the mighty Bloom brought low? This was karma, plain and simple. The universe delivering retribution for all the humiliation she and her sisters had endured.
But something was deeply wrong. The Bloom she knew would have transformed by now, would have turned these pathetic excuses for dark wizards into ash. This Bloom looked... lost. Terrified in a way that went beyond the immediate threat. She wasn't fighting back because she didn't know how.
"Shit," Icy whispered, already knowing she was going to regret this. Her feet were moving before her brain could talk her out of it. She stepped into the light, adopting the arrogant stance that had once been as natural as breathing. "Well, well. Three big strong men against one girl. How impressively pathetic."
The men turned, and Icy got a better look at their faces. Local thugs, probably kicked out of Red Fountain for lack of talent rather than excess of darkness. The kind who thought harassing women made them powerful. The leader, a broad-shouldered brute with a scar across his chin, grinned at her.
"Look what we have here, boys. The universe is being generous tonight." He took a step toward her, magical energy crackling weakly around his fingers. "The ice witch herself, though I hear you're not so icy anymore."
Icy's heart pounded, but she kept her expression cold and dismissive. She might not have her powers, but she had something these idiots never would – presence. "And I hear you're not so impressive anymore. Failed out of Red Fountain, was it? Couldn't cut it as a hero, so now you're what? Practicing to be villains? Please. I've seen pixie pets with more menace."
The other two men spread out, trying to flank her. Amateur move, telegraphed so obviously it was almost insulting. Icy kept her eyes on the leader but watched their movements in her peripheral vision. More importantly, she watched Bloom, who was staring at her with no recognition whatsoever in her eyes.
"You know what?" the leader growled, dark magic gathering around his fist. "I think it's time someone taught you some respect."
Icy laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "Respect? From you?" She took a deliberate step toward Bloom, never breaking eye contact with the leader. "I'd have better luck finding intelligence in a troll." She reached out, grabbed Bloom's wrist, and hissed, "Run."
They bolted. Icy pulled Bloom down the nearest alley, her mind racing through the maze of Magix's back streets. Behind them, she could hear the men shouting, their heavy footsteps echoing off the buildings. Two years of working in the magical district had taught her every shortcut and hiding spot. She took a sharp right, then an immediate left, ducking under a low-hanging sign for an apothecary.
"Keep up," she snapped at Bloom, who was stumbling slightly but managing to match her pace. "And keep quiet."
They emerged onto a broader street, this one lined with closed shops. Icy pulled them into the shadowed doorway of a fortune teller's shop, pressing them both against the wall. Her hand was still locked around Bloom's wrist, and she could feel the fairy's rapid pulse.
The sound of pursuit grew closer. Icy held her breath, feeling Bloom tense beside her. The men's voices echoed off the buildings.
"Which way?"
"Split up!"
"When I find that ice bitch..."
Icy waited until the sounds faded before relaxing slightly. She turned to Bloom, ready to demand answers – and found herself facing the point of a broken bottle. Bloom had backed away, her hands shaking as she held her makeshift weapon.
"Stay back," Bloom whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I don't know what you want, but stay back."
Icy stared at her former nemesis, genuine confusion replacing her usual irritation. "What I want? I just saved you from those creeps. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you, princess."
But there was no recognition in Bloom's eyes. No anger, no hatred, not even the reluctant acknowledgment she might have expected. Just pure, unadulterated fear.
"I don't..." Bloom swallowed hard. "I don't know you. I don't know them. I don't... I don't know anything." Her voice broke on the last word, and the bottle shook more violently in her grip.
Icy felt a headache building behind her eyes. This had to be some kind of trick. Some elaborate Winx Club scheme. But the fear in Bloom's eyes was too raw, too genuine. "Where are your irritating friends? The Winx Club?"
Bloom's blank expression answered before her words did. "What's a Winx Club?"
"Oh, for the love of darkness," Icy muttered. She was going to regret this. She was already regretting this. But she couldn't leave Bloom here, not like this. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than their past rivalry. "Look, I have a place. It's not much, but it's better than standing in a dark alley with those guys still looking for us."
The bottle wavered. "Why should I trust you?"
"Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have left you with them." Icy's patience was wearing thin, but she forced herself to sound calmer than she felt. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm offering you a choice between following me or taking your chances alone in a city you apparently don't remember, with three guys who definitely mean you harm still hunting for you."
Bloom lowered the bottle slightly, her eyes searching Icy's face. "You... you know who I am?"
The vulnerability in that question hit Icy harder than she expected. "Yeah, princess. I know who you are." She held out her hand, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. "Come on. We can figure this out somewhere safer."
After what felt like an eternity, Bloom set the bottle down. She didn't take Icy's hand, but she nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Okay."
Icy led them through the quieter streets of Magix, taking the long way to avoid any chance of running into their pursuers again. She kept glancing at Bloom, trying to make sense of this situation. The powerful fairy who had defeated her multiple times now looked like she might break if someone spoke too loudly.
They finally reached the small house Icy shared with her sisters. It was more of a cottage really, tucked away in one of Magix's less reputable districts. The magical protection wards were weak – the best they could manage without their full powers – but better than nothing.
"Home sweet home," Icy said dryly, unlocking the door. "Darcy and Stormy aren't back yet. They're working late shifts too."
Bloom hesitated at the threshold. "Those are... your sisters?"
"Something like that." Icy gestured for her to enter. "Come on. You look like you're about to fall over."
The interior was small but clean. They kept it orderly out of habit – years of magical training had instilled certain standards, even if they couldn't maintain them with magic anymore. Icy led Bloom to their worn but comfortable couch.
"Sit," she commanded, then softened her tone slightly at Bloom's flinch. "Just... sit. I'll make tea."
In the tiny kitchen, Icy braced her hands against the counter and took a deep breath. What was she doing? Bringing Bloom here was asking for trouble. Her sisters would be furious. But something was very wrong, and as much as she hated to admit it, her curiosity was piqued.
When she returned with two cups of tea, she found Bloom exactly where she'd left her, perched on the edge of the couch like she might need to run at any moment. Icy set one cup in front of her and took the armchair opposite.
"Okay, princess. Let's start simple. What's the last thing you remember? Before tonight?"
Bloom wrapped her hands around the warm cup, staring into the liquid as if it might hold answers. "I... I woke up in an alley. Everything before that is..." She shook her head. "It's like looking into fog. I know there should be something there, but I can't see it."
"And you have no idea who I am? No memory of me at all?"
"Should I?" Bloom looked up, and for a moment, Icy saw a flash of their old battles in her mind – the rage, the power, the rivalry that had shaped both their lives. None of it reflected in Bloom's eyes.
Icy took a long sip of tea, using the moment to think. "We have... history. Not good history. Which is why this whole situation is..." She gestured vaguely with her free hand.
"You saved me," Bloom said quietly. "If we have bad history, why would you do that?"
It was a fair question, one Icy wasn't sure she could answer. "Because something's wrong. And as much as it pains me to admit it, you're not usually this..." She searched for the right word. "Helpless."
Bloom flinched again, but there was a spark of something in her eyes – curiosity, maybe. "What am I usually like?"
Icy laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "Annoyingly powerful. Stupidly brave. A constant thorn in my side." She studied Bloom's face. "You really don't remember any of it? The Winx Club? Alfea? Your powers?"
Each question was met with the same blank look. Bloom set down her untouched tea. "Powers? Like... magic?"
"Oh, this is just perfect," Icy muttered. She was about to elaborate when she heard familiar footsteps approaching the house. "And it's about to get even better."
The door opened, and Darcy's voice carried into the room. "Icy, you would not believe the night we had. Some entitled pixie tried to..." She stopped dead in the doorway, Stormy nearly running into her back.
"What the hell?" Stormy pushed past her sister, electricity crackling weakly around her fingers – more of a static shock than real power, but her intent was clear. "What is she doing here?"
Icy stood, positioning herself between her sisters and Bloom. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it," Darcy said, her eyes narrowing. "Now."
Behind Icy, she heard Bloom stand, could practically feel her trembling. This was going to be a long night, and somehow, Icy knew it was only the beginning of something much bigger than their old feuds.
"Well," she said, meeting her sisters' angry glares, "you know how I always say our lives couldn't get any more interesting?"
Stormy's fingers twitched, sparks dancing between them. "Have you lost your mind? After everything she did to us—"
"She doesn't remember any of it," Icy cut in, keeping her voice level. "She doesn't remember anything."
Darcy stepped forward, her eyes glowing faintly as she attempted to peer into Bloom's mind – another remnant of power they could barely access. She frowned, concentration etching lines between her brows. "There's... nothing. Just fog and fragments."
"That's convenient," Stormy spat, but uncertainty had crept into her expression.
Bloom pressed herself further into the corner of the room, her gaze darting between the sisters. "Please," she whispered, the word barely audible. "I don't... I don't understand any of this."
The raw fear in her voice made even Stormy pause. They'd seen Bloom angry, determined, even afraid – but never like this. Never small.
"Found her cornered by three guys in the magical district," Icy explained, watching her sisters' reactions carefully. "No powers, no memory, no fight. Just... empty."
Darcy's eyes narrowed. "And you brought her here because...?"
"Because something's wrong." Icy crossed her arms, daring them to challenge her. "And whatever did this to her could be a threat to all of us."
"Or it could be a trap," Stormy countered, but she'd lowered her hands, the sparks fading. "The Winx could be—"
"The Winx would never do this to their precious leader," Darcy interrupted, studying Bloom with growing interest. "And they wouldn't let her wander Magix alone at night. Something happened."
The tension in the room shifted, curiosity gradually replacing hostility. Icy recognized the change in her sisters' demeanor – the same instinct that had made them such effective strategists hadn't disappeared with their powers.
"I can leave," Bloom offered quietly, though her trembling suggested the prospect terrified her. "I don't want to cause trouble."
"Little late for that, princess," Stormy muttered, but the venom had left her voice.
Darcy moved closer, her movement deliberately slow. "What's the first thing you remember? Before tonight?"
Bloom wrapped her arms around herself, focus turning inward. "Cold. I remember being cold. And... pain, here." She touched her temple. "Then the alley. That's all."
"No convenient flashbacks? No mysterious clues?" Stormy's skepticism remained, but curiosity had begun to overshadow it.
"Nothing." Bloom's voice cracked. "Just... nothing."
Icy caught Darcy's eye, recognizing the calculating look there. Her sister had always been the most analytical of them, seeing patterns where others saw chaos.
"If this is genuine," Darcy said slowly, "someone went to a lot of trouble. Memory spells this complete..." She shook her head. "That's high-level magic."
"Which means whoever did this has power," Icy concluded. "Real power."
Stormy dropped onto the couch, sending up a small cloud of dust. "Great. Because that's exactly what we need right now – more powerful enemies."
"We don't know they're our enemies," Darcy pointed out. "This could be about her, not us."
"She's our enemy," Stormy countered, gesturing at Bloom.
"Was," Icy corrected. The word felt strange in her mouth. "Right now, she's..." She paused, searching for the right term.
"A mystery," Darcy finished. "One that walked right into our home."
Bloom had been following their conversation like someone watching a tennis match, confusion deepening with each exchange. "You keep talking about me like you know me, but I don't..." She pressed her palms against her temples. "Why can't I remember?"
The genuine distress in her voice struck something in Icy she'd thought long buried. Perhaps it was seeing their once-mighty rival so diminished, or maybe it was the memory of her own experiences with powerlessness. Whatever the reason, she found herself moving closer, speaking more gently than she had in years.
"Look, it's late. You're exhausted, we're exhausted, and none of us is thinking clearly." She glanced at her sisters, silently asking for their cooperation. "We have a spare room. It's small, but it's better than the streets."
"Icy," Stormy started to protest, but Darcy laid a hand on her arm.
"She's right. We need to think this through, and we can't do that tonight." Darcy's gaze remained fixed on Bloom, analytical but no longer hostile. "Besides, if this is a trap, better to spring it on our terms."
Bloom looked between them, confusion warring with exhaustion on her face. "Why are you helping me? If we were enemies..."
"Because," Icy said, surprising herself with her honesty, "right now you're the most interesting thing that's happened to us in two years. And we're tired of being boring."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Darcy's face. "Speak for yourself. I'm having a fascinating career in customer service."
"Right," Stormy snorted. "Because dealing with entitled pixies at the tech shop is so fulfilling."
The familiar banter seemed to ease some of Bloom's tension. Her shoulders lowered slightly, though wariness remained in her eyes.
"The spare room's this way," Icy said, gesturing toward the hallway. "It's not much, but—"
"Thank you," Bloom interrupted softly. "I know this is strange, but... thank you."
Icy caught her sisters exchanging glances behind Bloom's back. They'd faced plenty of bizarre situations in their time, but this – their greatest rival under their roof, vulnerable and grateful – might top them all.
Leading Bloom to the spare room, Icy couldn't shake the feeling that they were stepping into something much bigger than a simple case of memory loss. The old her would have been plotting how to use this situation to their advantage. Now, she found herself genuinely wondering what had happened to the fairy who had once been powerful enough to defeat them all.
"Try to get some rest," she told Bloom, hovering in the doorway. "We'll figure this out in the morning."
Bloom nodded, perching on the edge of the narrow bed. "I know I should be more afraid," she said quietly. "Being in a strange house with people who say they were my enemies. But..." She looked up, meeting Icy's gaze. "Something feels right about being here. Is that crazy?"
Icy suppressed a laugh. "Princess, that might be the sanest thing about this whole situation." She paused, then added, "There are wards on the house. Basic ones, but they'll keep out anyone meaning harm. You're safe here."
The words felt foreign on her tongue – offering comfort to Bloom of all people. But as she closed the door and headed back to face her sisters' inevitable interrogation, she couldn't deny the strange rightness of it all.
Midnight bloom coffee pervaded the kitchen with its distinctive aroma – a cheap magical blend favored by night shift workers. Darcy measured out three cups with mechanical precision while Stormy paced the worn linoleum, each step releasing tiny sparks that made their ancient light fixture sputter.
"This whole situation reeks of a trap," Stormy muttered, dragging fingers through her unruly hair. Static electricity followed her movements, creating a faint halo in the dim light.
Darcy placed the steaming cups on their scarred kitchen table. "If it's a trap, it's an elaborate one. Memory spells this comprehensive require serious power."
"Since when are we in the business of housing powerless fairies?" Stormy paused her pacing long enough to claim a cup. "Especially this fairy."
Icy observed her sisters from her position against the counter, noting the tension in their shoulders, the way they kept glancing toward the hallway where their unexpected guest slept. "Since someone powerful enough to neutralize Bloom decided to play in our territory."
"Our territory?" A bitter laugh escaped Stormy. "We barely own the clothes on our backs."
"We own more than that." Darcy's eyes gleamed with familiar calculation. "We have our knowledge, our understanding of dark magic. Our connections in Magix's shadows."
"Fat lot of good those have done us lately," Stormy grumbled, but her expression turned thoughtful.
Icy straightened, recognizing the shift in the room's energy. "We've been waiting for an opportunity. Something to change the game."
"And you think she's it?" Stormy gestured toward the spare room with her cup, sending coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Our ticket back to relevance?"
"Think about it," Darcy leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "Someone went to extraordinary lengths to isolate her. To strip away not just her memories, but her very identity."
"The kind of power that could do that..." Icy let the implication hang in the air.
"Could restore ours," Stormy finished, electricity crackling around her fingertips.
The sisters fell silent, considering the possibilities. Outside, Magix's nightlife continued its familiar rhythm – the whoosh of late-night transportation spells, the chiming of enchanted street clocks, occasional bursts of drunken fairy laughter floating up from the street below.
"We'll need resources." Darcy broke the silence first, ever the pragmatist. "Information doesn't come cheap in the underground."
"And we're barely covering rent with our current jobs," Stormy added, slumping into a kitchen chair.
"I might have a solution for that." Darcy's lips curved into a familiar smirk. "The Dark Bean's owner approached me about managing night shifts. Offering a significant bonus for the position."
Icy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't mention this earlier."
"Wasn't relevant until now." Darcy shrugged, an elegant motion that belied their current circumstances. "Besides, it's a step up from serving entitled Alfea students their pumpkin spice potions."
"The mighty Trix, climbing the corporate coffee ladder." Stormy's laugh held more edge than humor. "How far we've fallen."
"We've fallen further," Icy reminded them, memories of those first desperate months after losing their powers flashing through her mind. The hunger, the shame, the frantic search for anyone willing to hire disgraced witches.
A distant sound interrupted their discussion – something between a whimper and a cry from the spare room. All three sisters tensed, years of shared history allowing them to communicate without words.
"Leave her," Darcy advised, noting Stormy's instinctive movement toward the hall. "She needs time to process. So do we."
"I'll take first watch," Icy decided, moving toward the living room window. "We don't know who else might have seen us tonight."
Stormy gathered their empty cups, the ceramic clinking softly. "Just don't forget who she is, Icy. Who we are."
"That's the problem," Icy murmured, scanning the quiet street below. "Right now, none of us knows who she is. And that might be the most dangerous part of all."
The sisters settled into their familiar patterns – Darcy reviewing possibilities in her notebook, Stormy channeling restlessness into cleaning, Icy maintaining vigilance. But the atmosphere in their small home had fundamentally shifted. Their unexpected guest had changed more than just their evening routine.
For the first time since losing their powers, they were playing a game that mattered. Despite their history of hatred and hurt, they couldn't deny the electric thrill of possibility. They were witches after all, even without magic. Darkness recognized darkness, just as it recognized opportunity.
And somewhere in their spare room, the most powerful fairy in the magical dimension slept under their protection, while unseen forces moved through the night, weaving webs none of them yet understood.
Magic might have abandoned them, but destiny, it seemed, had other plans.