Chapter Text
Deep down, Icy had always known that everything would end this way. She had sensed it from the very beginning, even though she never did anything to prevent it.
Now she walked with slumped shoulders and her gaze fixed on the filthy floor. The stone silence that reigned throughout death row muffled her footsteps while making the pounding of her heart echo even louder in her ears. Two burly guards escorted her to her temporary cell. The verdict of the Magix Council had not been the same as her sisters. The death penalty awaited her.
Maybe it was because Darcy and Stormy had turned themselves in of their own free will. Or because, at the end of the day, everyone knew that Icy was the mastermind behind the Trix's crimes. If the Council wanted to put an end to the coven, it made sense to start with its leader. They did not even care that they had helped save the Magic Universe from Valtor's second attack. To Magix's high command, that was not enough proof that they had changed. Therefore, evil had to be eradicated at its roots so that nothing would ever happen again that could endanger everyone else.
The cell assigned to Icy was cleaner than the previous one, but it was also colder, more impersonal, and smaller. It had not been built to be lived in, it merely served as a waiting room for the inevitable end. It was a concrete corner with a tiny desk, a metal bunk bed with a thin mattress, a toilet, and a shower that barely fulfilled its purpose. There was not even enough room to escape her thoughts or what was waiting for her.
Lying on the bed was a white tracksuit, a hypocritical replacement for the bright orange one she was wearing. As if the color could wash away what was about to come or erase the stains of her past. It was ridiculous.
Finally, one of the guards agreed to remove her annoying handcuffs. Then, the heavy steel door slammed shut behind Icy. At that moment, she understood there was no turning back. No tricks, no magic, no more time to bargain with. From now on, an invisible clock had begun counting down to her execution.
And, in case she harbored any false ideas, another guard stationed outside her cell watched her without blinking. Not out of compassion, of course; that was a privilege someone like her no longer had. There would be no attempts at self-harm or suicide. Only the cruel formality of a sentence carried out to the letter.
"I don't need a damn babysitter." Icy growled at the guard from inside her cell as she undressed to change her clothes. As if the man were the only thing unworthy in that place that reeked of death.
The guard let out a hollow laugh, but he did not even flinch at the biting remark.
"It's part of the protocol. I'm not moving from here." He emphasized, impassive. "We know what you're capable of. You're a very clever, slippery, and dangerous witch after all."
A faint smile found its way onto Icy's lips, reflecting her indomitable nature even in the face of adversity.
"I'm flattered." She let herself fall onto the bed with her arms behind her head, as though she were on vacation instead of waiting in the antechamber of death. She was calm, far too calm to be normal.
Breakfast arrived shortly afterward and consisted of a cold, flavorless porridge, barely distinguishable from the tray that held it. Icy did not touch it. Not because she was not hungry, although she was not, but out of pure contempt for the system that had condemned her. She dumped it into the toilet and left the empty tray in a corner. She did the same with lunch, which arrived a couple of hours later. If they were expecting her to make a scene, they were sorely mistaken. There would be no pathetic outbursts. That simply was not in her nature.
She spent the rest of the afternoon lying on that imitation of a bed, counting the cracks and damp stains on the ceiling. Then, out of nowhere, Bloom's image burst into her mind. Icy frowned deeply as she remembered the last time they had seen each other. That foolish fairy who had tried to stand against the Templars to prevent her arrest. Icy let out an incredulous laugh. Why the hell had she tried to help her? Did she feel indebted because Icy had handed her the last Prime Star? It made no sense. They were sworn enemies. Enemies who had tried to kill each other time and time again throughout countless confrontations.
"Idiot." She muttered under her breath. And, without giving it another thought, she closed her eyes and let exhaustion overtake her.
At exactly seven o'clock, an official appeared at the cell's viewing hatch and asked her what she wanted for her last meal. Icy did not hesitate for a single second.
"Ice cream." It was the only thing she said, without taking her eyes off the ceiling.
"Any particular flavor?" The man asked from outside.
"Mint chocolate." She replied, and for the first time in a very long while, her lips curved into a faint smile that was not entirely bitter. It never even crossed her mind to ask for exquisite steaks, aged wines, or desserts from another planet. The only thing she wanted at that moment was a simple ice cream.
An hour later, the tray arrived. It held a modest glass cup with three scoops of pale green ice cream speckled with chocolate chips. It had already begun to melt around the edges, but it still held its shape. Somewhere inside that prison, someone had taken the time to make it look presentable. Possibly out of protocol or compassion. Or perhaps because of that last glimmer of humanity that even prisons demanded. In truth, Icy did not care in the slightest; she neither appreciated it nor despised it.
She picked up the metal spoon and plunged it into the ice cream, scooping up a generous portion. At the first bite, she let herself drift away and closed her eyes. For a moment, the gray concrete, the coldness of the cell, the invisible counting of the seconds... all of it faded away. She saw herself again, younger, sitting in the gardens of Dyamond Castle with her sister Sapphire laughing beside her. The two of them shared a tub of mint chocolate ice cream, their cheeks flushed from the cold.
I wish Sapphire could forgive her someday. For not being there when it mattered. For letting her down as an older sister and as a person.
Icy opened her eyes abruptly. The spoon trembled slightly between her fingers. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mingling with the sweet taste of the ice cream lingering on her lips. She did not know when they had started to fall, but she paid them no mind. She had no reason left to pretend to be strong. Pride was irrelevant when death was waiting on the other side of the door.
She ate as slowly as she could, stretching out every bite, wishing to steal seconds from the clock. She was not only savoring the ice cream, but also the memories it carried: innocent laughter, days with clean hands, a little girl who had once believed in the goodness of the world. When the last spoonful disappeared, she let the spoon fall onto the tray with a metallic clink that echoed throughout the small, silent cell.
As she lay back down, the biting cold of the bunk reminded her of the harshness of her reality. In less than twelve hours, she would cease to exist. Everything would be over. That was when her false calm shattered into pieces. A violent shiver ran from the nape of her neck down to the base of her spine. The realization that struck her was as brutal as it was undeniable: she was afraid. But it was not a shallow or fleeting fear. It was a primal one that twisted her insides. In that moment of cruel clarity, she knew she wanted to live, that a part of her desperately longed to keep existing despite everything.
But it was already too late to repent for her sins. It would serve no purpose, nothing would be mended with empty words or belated reflections. Her fate had already been sealed once and for all. She had caused far too much harm, and now the Magic Universe demanded its blood debt. At least Darcy and Stormy would still be breathing tomorrow; that thought was the only comfort she allowed herself.
The night dragged on endlessly. Icy remained with her eyes open, staring into nothingness, inventing parallel worlds in which her name was not synonymous with terror, in which the fairies did not curse her with resentment, and in which Sapphire could have called her «sister» without feeling ashamed, without the weight of her mistakes standing between them.
At five o'clock in the morning, the screech of the locks being withdrawn made Icy's skin crawl, for it meant the hour she feared most had arrived.
Four guards entered. One of them read her the rights that were no longer of any use to her. Another offered her a tray of food, which Icy declined with a shake of her head. She did not even look at what was on the plate. She stood up with the stiffness of an automaton and, with resignation, turned her wrists to make it easier for them to fasten the handcuffs.
She did not say a word during the walk. The corridor lights switched on one by one as they moved forward. The march toward death pressed on relentlessly. Icy watched the shadows stretch and distort across the walls. Magix would breathe a sigh of relief that day. The Winx would raise a toast to her absence. The world would keep turning with indifference, as though the Ice Witch had never existed.
The doors at the end of the corridor swung wide open, announcing her imminent fate. Icy held her breath without meaning to. A faint hum lingered in the air of the execution chamber. The room was smaller than she had imagined, though no less intimidating for it.
The electric chair stood in the center of the room, bolted to the floor; a throne reserved for the condemned. The worn leather straps hung motionless at its sides, and several cables emerged from the backrest, connected to unseen mechanisms. Behind the tinted glass, she could make out the blurred silhouettes of the witnesses. How many of them had paid to watch her die? Her mouth went dry at the very thought; a knot of dryness and revulsion.
The guards led her to the chair without needing to use force. One of the men motioned curtly for her to sit down. Icy obeyed in silence, without lifting her gaze from the floor.
The straps bit into the flesh of her wrists, ankles, and torso. Every preparation reminded her that this time there would be no escape. The electrode on her right leg caused a faint stinging sensation. The damp sponge dripped salty water onto her temple, mingling with the nervous sweat beading on her forehead. The metal cap still hung suspended above her head, waiting for the final order.
An uncontrollable shudder ran through her body, betraying the façade of indifference that was beginning to crack. She was no longer the fearsome Ice Witch, but a frightened little girl trapped inside the body of a monster everyone wanted to see burn.
When Icy raised her eyes, she was met with the reflection of hungry smiles and gazes that fed on her agony. There they were, the righteous, celebrating death as though it were a macabre spectacle they eagerly took part in. Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms. The burning in her eyes could no longer be blamed on the glare of the lights. Icy did not know whether what she felt was rage or pure terror.
"Any last words?" An anonymous voice asked.
Icy turned her head sharply, ready to unleash a string of insults that would condense all of her contempt. However, among the crowd of anonymous faces, which included members of the Council, officers, and bureaucrats, a flash of red suddenly caught her attention. Her heart stopped for a second, paralyzed by surprise.
"It can't be..." A whisper escaped her lips, now incapable of concealing their trembling.
The movement became clear. Bloom burst through the crowd and slammed against the glass in desperation, pressing the palms of her hands against the barrier that separated them.
"Icy!"
The cry pierced through the glass, filled with urgency. Both pairs of blue eyes met briefly across the distance: Icy's cold eyes, resigned to their fate, and Bloom's, overwhelmed by a soul-crushing anguish. Thick tears streamed down the redhead's cheeks.
Icy thought that no one should be capable of crying so heartbreakingly for a monster like her. Her heart pounded so violently that it drowned out every sound in the room, echoing in her ears. That organ, which for years she had believed to be completely numb and hardened, was still capable of suffering in an overwhelming way. The chair, the cables, the guards... everything vanished into that sudden emptiness. Only the two of them remained: the witch and the fairy, connected in the midst of the chaos.
In that final moment, Icy understood the cruel irony of the fate that bound them together. Of all the people surrounding her in that room, only that girl, the one who had fought her the most and the one who had thwarted her plans time and time again, was the only one who had truly seen her. Not as the Ice Queen nor as a constant threat, but as Icy. Simply Icy.
For her part, Bloom clung to the edge of the glass, her tears falling uncontrollably onto the transparent surface, tracing liquid paths that distorted her reflection.
"Just one minute! One minute! That's all I'm asking for!" She pleaded, her breathing ragged, scratching at the glass as if she could break it. "Please... don't make me leave... Not before I look her in the eyes." The words drowned in a sob. "I don't care what she's done! Let me talk to her!... Even if it's... just to... say goodbye." One of the guards tried to pull her away, but Bloom twisted herself away fiercely, digging her nails into his arm in an act of resistance.
"Icy!" she cried again. "Please..." She whispered, her voice broken. "One minute... just one."
Inside the chamber, Icy swallowed with difficulty, feeling her throat tighten. The pain in her chest became unbearable. It was as if Bloom had cast a fire spell straight into her soul by saying her name that way.
Why? Why her? Why did she have to be there, at that moment, just when she had already accepted death? She hated her for it. She hated her for making her want to live. She hated her for not letting her die in silence... And yet, she could not take her eyes off her, trapped in that unexpected connection.
A murmur swept through the observation room. The warden, a gray-haired man with a stern gaze, watched the scene in silence, weighing every detail with grave consideration.
Bloom did not stop and kept pounding on the glass with her open palms. Her voice, shattered by sobs, showed a complete lack of respect for authority and the solemnity of the moment. There was something about her desperation that was impossible to ignore.
"One minute." She repeated, this time in a whisper. She had no voice left, but she still had enough soul to beg. "I'm begging you."
Silence filled the chamber completely after that final request. The warden took a deep breath and glanced back at the Council behind him. They exchanged a few quiet words that no one else could hear. Then they looked forward again and gave a subtle nod.
The warden turned around slowly and activated the communicator.
"Stop the protocol."
The executioner, whose hand was already resting on the lever, stepped back upon hearing the order. The lights flickered, and a beep signaled that the system had been halted.
"Grant her the minute. Not one more." The gray-haired man ordered firmly.
A guard hurried to unlock a side door. Bloom did not even wait for the signal. She ran as though her life depended on it. The moment she entered the chamber, the tension became almost unbearable. The air was charged with electricity, quite literally.
Icy's gaze was a mixture of disbelief and fury, fixed on the figure approaching her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She snapped, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white with rage. Even so, it was impossible for her to hide the trembling in her arms, which betrayed the sharpness of her voice.
Bloom dragged her feet, stopping in front of her. Her eyelashes were stuck together with tears, and her nose and cheeks were flushed from crying. Her body shook with soft hiccupping sobs that she could barely suppress.
"I needed..." She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I needed to see you."
Icy arched an eyebrow, confused. Then she burst out laughing. Or at least, she tried to. The sound came out closer to a sob than to sarcasm.
"Why? Isn't this the ending you've always wanted?" She asked harshly, struggling to maintain her composure, though her voice failed her just as she finished speaking.
Bloom shook her head violently, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
"No!" The cry burned her throat, heartbreaking and filled with pain. "I never wanted this!" She took a step forward, moving a little closer. Her entire body was trembling. "I never wanted things to end like this..."
"Stop lying, fairy." Icy said, turning her gaze toward the wall. She could not bear the weight of those blue eyes drilling into her soul. "We both know the hatred goes both ways."
Bloom crumbled, her shoulders slumping beneath a stifled sob torn from the deepest part of her being.
"I... don't hate you, Icy." Thick tears rolled down her chin. "I never did."
The confession hung suspended between them. Icy blinked, bewildered, unable to believe what she had just heard. She wanted to answer, but her voice caught in the knot tightening around her throat. She struggled to breathe, growing more and more unsteady. Bloom's words lodged themselves in her mind, too impossible to believe, too sincere to ignore.
Meanwhile, the clock on the wall continued marking the relentless seconds.
"You... you don't have to believe me." Bloom continued, barely audible even to the two of them. "But you needed to know. You're not alone."
The witch remained frozen in shock, her eyes burning. Heat gathered in her cheeks. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, as though she were letting escape something that had weighed on her chest for years and hurt so much, a pressure that had finally found relief.
"Imagine worrying about me..." A softer, more genuine laugh escaped her. "You're an idiot, Bloom." Her breath betrayed her. Icy lowered her head, defeated by the emotion twisting inside her chest. "Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
The redhead managed a sad smile, tears glistening on her eyelashes.
"I know."
There was a second of silence filled with everything they had never found the courage to say, with wounds left unhealed, and with truths left unspoken. The shadow of something that, in another world, might have been different.
"You... stupid, cheesy fairy." Icy whispered, her voice barely above a breath, swallowing the knot in her throat. Then, at last, she found the courage to lift her head and look Bloom in the eyes. "Thank you for being here." There was nothing left to hide. Tears escaped without her permission, tracing silvery paths across her flushed skin, finally melting the mask of ice she had worn for so long.
Bloom leaned toward her, their foreheads almost touching. In that closeness without contact, between one breath and the next, the universe was reduced to just the two of them. Two broken souls and a goodbye suspended in time.
"Goodbye, Icy." Bloom said, her voice broken and gentle all at once.
"Goodbye, Pixie." Icy closed her eyes one last time and smiled sincerely through her tears. "Thank you for everything."
A voice announced that the minute was over, but Bloom did not move right away. She remained there, her forehead barely apart from Icy's, breathing in the same sadness and resignation. She knew she could not change anything. Not this time. She took one step back, then another, as though the floor itself refused to let her go. A guard's hands rested gently on her shoulders to escort her out. She offered no resistance. Yet, as she turned around one last time, her gaze clung to Icy with an intensity that pierced her soul, leaving behind an indelible mark.
Icy's eyes shone, though they no longer reflected rage or fear. There was an unusual serenity in her gaze that softened the features hardened by years of conflict. It was like looking at an entirely new Icy, and at the same time, the very same one as always.
The door closed behind Bloom, sealing off the chamber and bringing to an end a bond that no one else could ever have understood in all its complexity and depth.
Icy took a deep breath a couple of times. The emptiness returned, but it was no longer the same. Something inside her had changed, had broken, and in its place remained a strange feeling of relief that wrapped around her chest.
"I'm ready." She murmured to herself, accepting the inevitable.
The technicians approached in silence, each carrying out their task. They adjusted the cap over her head and checked the connections. They made sure everything was in order. None of them dared to look Icy in the eyes. Perhaps because they knew that today they were not only going to execute a criminal, but also a story that had never been fully told.
Icy clenched her fists. For a second, one foolish second, the image of Bloom pounding on the glass flooded her mind: the desperate cry, the voice calling her by name. That damn, stubborn, incredible fairy who had burst into her final minutes.
An expression free of sarcasm blossomed across her face. Perhaps her life had not been so bad after all. Not everything had been darkness. Perhaps, somewhere between fire and ice, there had been something that had been worth it.
"Any final statement?"
Icy thought about it for a few seconds and let her gaze find Bloom's through the glass. She was looking at her with her fists pressed against the surface, her lips trembling, and silent tears streaming down her face.
"Maybe I don't regret everything I did..." She confessed with a calmness that surprised those present. "But I do regret not trying to understand you sooner." The latter was meant exclusively for Bloom. The last tear slipped down her chin. Icy closed her eyes and smiled a genuine smile.
What would have happened if she had let Bloom into her life? If she had chosen a different path?
On the other side of the glass, Bloom stifled a sob and rested her forehead against the barrier, overwhelmed with helplessness.
The order was given, and the executioner pulled the lever. Bloom looked away, but she could not keep herself from hearing the hum of electricity racing through the cables and sealing the end of the life of the only person she had ever loved with absolute sincerity.