Reborn Beneath The Ice

CHAPTER 1:THE PHANTOM STAB

​The rusty blade tearing through his stomach felt entirely real, even after he opened his eyes. Ethan Vance bolted upright in the dark, a ragged, suffocating scream ripping from his throat as his hands clawed frantically at his bare chest. He expected the wet, sticky warmth of his own blood, the smell of copper, and the agonizing chill of the frostbitten room where they had left him to rot.

​Instead, his fingers hit dry, expensive cotton sheets.

​"What on earth is wrong with you, Ethan?"

​The voice was sharp, a familiar tone of polished irritation that made his chest seize. He turned his head slowly. The air in the room didn't burn his lungs. It didn't smell like sub-zero death. It smelled faintly of lavender and luxury candles.

​Chloe Harrison stood near the vanity mirror, adjusting a diamond earring. Her skin was flushed, radiating life. She looked perfect, completely untouched by the black frostbite that had claimed her fingers in the timeline he remembered.

​"You are sweating straight through the mattress," Chloe said, turning around with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Did you have another one of those ridiculous nightmares? You know we have the charity gala tonight. I cannot have you looking like a ghost in front of the board."

​Ethan stared at her, his pulse drumming a frantic rhythm in his ears. He looked past her to the digital clock on the nightstand. The glowing numbers read July 6, 2026.

​Thirty days. He was back. He was exactly thirty days before the world became an icy grave.

​"Are you listening to me?" Chloe stepped closer, her heels clicking aggressively against the hardwood floor. "I asked you a question. Did you contact the travel agent about the Aspen trip next month? My friends are already booking their cabins, and I refuse to be left out."

​"There will be no Aspen trip," Ethan said. His voice was hoarse, rough, and entirely devoid of the gentle warmth he usually used when speaking to her.

​Chloe arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her lips tightening into a thin line. "Excuse me? We talked about this for months. If this is about the money again, I swear to God, Ethan, your brother Marcus makes three times what you do and he never complains about taking care of his family's reputation."

​Ethan slid his legs out of bed, his bare feet touching the warm wood floor. The contrast between this air-conditioned comfort and the memory of his toes rotting from frostbite made his stomach churn.

​"I do not care about your friends, Chloe," he said, standing up to his full height. He didn't soften his posture to make her feel comfortable this time. "And I do not care about Marcus."

​Chloe gasped slightly, taking a step backward. Her arrogant demeanor flickered for a fraction of a second, replaced by genuine confusion. "What did you just say to me?"

​Ethan walked past her, ignoring the scent of her perfume. In his mind, that scent was now inextricably linked to the smell of her betrayal, to the sound of her laughing as her new lovers dragged him into the blizzard to steal his last can of food. He walked toward the large window. Outside, the city was bustling under a bright summer sun. People were walking in shorts, laughing, enjoying the heat. They had no idea that in four weeks, the sky would turn grey and never change back.

​"The trip is canceled," Ethan said, his back turned to her. "In fact, everything is canceled."

​"You are losing your mind," Chloe snapped, marching up behind him. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin. "I am your fiancee, Ethan. You do not just decide to cancel our lives without discussing it with me first. What is wrong with you lately? You look at me like you want to kill me."

​"I am just seeing you clearly for the first time," Ethan whispered.

​He reached out his hand, pressing his palm against the glass window. As he did, a strange, electric jolt shot through his veins. A massive, invisible void opened up in his consciousness, a pocket of absolute nothingness that existed just behind his pulse. It was the spatial power. The mysterious, space-bending ability that had manifested a second too late in his past life was here, fully functional, waiting for his command.

​He glanced down at a heavy crystal vase sitting on the side table. With a subtle tug of his mind, the vase vanished into thin air. A second later, it reappeared exactly where it had been. Chloe was too busy pacing the floor to notice the split-second disappearance.

​It was real. The power was real. The apocalypse was coming.

​"Ethan, look at me when I am talking to you," Chloe demanded, stepping into his line of sight. "Marcus called me this morning. He said you have been trying to liquidate your shares in the family logistics company. He wants to know what you are doing, and honestly, so do I. Are you having financial trouble? Because if you are messing with my future security, we have a massive problem."

​"Your future security," Ethan repeated, the words tasting like ash.

​"Yes, my security," Chloe said, her eyes flashing with a cold, manipulative anger. "I didn't give up my career to be with someone who is going to throw his money away on whatever mid-life crisis this is. Marcus said you are acting erratic. He is thinking about calling an emergency board meeting to freeze your voting rights."

​Ethan looked down at her face, studying the sharp lines of her jaw, the calculated pout of her lips. He remembered how those same lips had lied to him, telling him they would survive together right before she handed the kitchen knife to the thugs outside their door.

​"Let him try," Ethan said softly.

​Chloe let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "Let him try? Ethan, he will destroy you. You know how Marcus is. He controls the family estate. If you cross him, you will be left with nothing. Why are you doing this? What are you planning to do with that cash?"

​"I am going to buy things, Chloe. Lots of things."

​"Like what? A sports car? A yacht?" Chloe followed him as he walked toward the closet to find some clothes. "You are being ridiculous. We have a wedding to pay for. The deposit for the venue is due tomorrow. I need fifty thousand dollars by noon."

​Ethan pulled a simple black jacket from the hanger. "I am not paying it."

​Chloe froze. Her face turned pale, her eyes widening in absolute shock. "What did you say?"

​"The wedding is off, Chloe."

​"You can't be serious," she whispered, her voice trembling now, though it was more from rage than sadness. "You are breaking up with me? Over what? Because I asked for the vacation we agreed on? Because I want our wedding to be perfect?"

​Ethan zipped up his jacket and walked back toward the front door of the penthouse. He didn't feel the devastating sorrow he thought he would feel when ending his relationship. He felt nothing but a cold, driving necessity. The clock was ticking. Every minute spent arguing with a corpse was a minute wasted.

​"We are done, Chloe. Pack your things and leave the apartment by tonight," Ethan said, his hand resting on the metal doorknob.

​Chloe ran toward him, grabbing his arm again. Her fingers clutched at his sleeve, her tears finally overflowing in a desperate bid for control. "You can't do this to me. I love you, Ethan. We have built a life together. You are just stressed. Let's just calm down and talk about this. We can call Marcus together and fix whatever misunderstanding you two have."

​Ethan looked down at her hand on his arm. His voice fell to a lethal whisper that made her instantly release her grip.

​"Do not touch me, Chloe. If you are still here when I get back, I will throw everything you own into the street myself."

​He didn't wait for her reply. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the luxurious living room, her face twisted in a mixture of fury and rising panic.

​As the elevator doors closed, Ethan pulled out his phone. He needed to check the exact balance of his personal investment accounts to see how much capital he could immediately deploy for the bunker materials.

​He opened the banking app, typing in his secure password. The screen buffered for a long, agonizing moment before a bold red notification popped up across the interface.

​Account Access Restricted. Please Contact Your Primary Corporate Trustee.

​Ethan’s grip tightened around the device until the glass creaked. Marcus had already moved. The corporate lock was active. He was entirely cut off from his own money, and the countdown to the end of the world had just begun.