The House of Frost vs. Light in the Darkness

[SnowQueenSCW]

Scars of a Fascade

”No More Places Left”

The Crane’s Nest
Takayama, Japan
July 18th, 2026
6:02am

The mountains didn't care who she was. Just like the caves and ice caverns of Nome. Selena Frost had spent nearly her entire life in places where everyone knew her name: Towns, cities, arenas, hotels, television studios, championship celebrations, press conferences.

There had always been someone watching - someone judging. In her youth, it was Nome, with most looking down on her as ‘The Crazy Miner’s Daughter’. When she had escaped, it was the SCW management looking for any reason to ‘write her off’ as a lacklustre talent. And when she had finally made something of herself, it was SCW – demanding perfection. Never straying, never making a mistake, and when she did? It didn’t matter how hard she tried, how hard she worked, how hard-fought each victory was – she was despised, vilified and told that nothing she did was ‘deserving’ of a chance to be world champion again.

Why? Because she was ‘The Blue-Eyed Devil’. Because she was the ‘villain’ and, thus, was ‘booked differently’.

‘The Crazy Miner’s Daughter’
‘The Snow Queen’
‘The Blue-Eyed Devil...

But here, the mountains asked for nothing. Morning mist drifted lazily between towering cedar trees, rolling through the valley like waves before disappearing into the forests below. The distant sound of water tumbling over smooth stone echoed through the stillness.

It was almost painfully beautiful.

Alone on the veranda of the ryokan, Selena sat, dressed in the magenta nightgown she loved and the dark-blue kimono wrapped around that. Her bare feet tucked beneath her as she watched the sun gradually lift beyond the horizon.

She couldn't remember the last sunrise she'd actually watched. Usually she was already moving:

Another flight.
Another country.
Another anonymous reservation under another carefully selected alias.

Ever since she had heard and seen Deanna in her father’s cave back in Nome, Alaska – escape had been the only course of action. Movement didn't ask questions... staying did.

She heard the sliding door behind her open with a quiet whisper. Slowly, her ears then picked up soft footsteps that crossed the polished wood, stopping beside her. Turning her head, she saw the elderly man bow respectfully. He wore the same immaculate navy yukata he wore every morning, his silver hair combed neatly despite the early hour.

He smiled. "Gohan." he spoke the one word gently – one of the few words Selena understood. Breakfast...

Selena returned the bow. "Arigatou."

The old man nodded once in reply. His English vocabulary seemed only slightly larger than her Japanese.
Despite this, neither of them were too bothered by that. He simply gestured politely toward the dining room before quietly disappearing back inside.

That had become their routine: No introductions. No questions. No awkward attempts at conversation. Just... courtesy.

And Selena appreciated it. She didn’t have to explain herself, her identity, her actions, or every decision, thought or doubt she had. She didn’t have to defend her basic existence. She didn’t have to defend her right to be in SCW and her right to be treated fairly. She just had to... be.

The smell wafted into her nose, causing her stomach to growl a little. Breakfast was already waiting:
Grilled salmon, rice, miso soup, pickled vegetables and tea.

The old man stood quietly nearby while another guest was shown to a table across the room.

At her table and picking up the chopsticks, Selena managed a few bites of rice, half the salmon, and the tea. The old man walked past her carrying fresh towels without looking directly at her. She turned her head and watched him pause, adjust something on the serving tray he held, then continued walking.

Looking down, the platinum-blonde realized that the bowl of rice had been replaced with a noticeably smaller portion. She blinked - she hadn't seen him do it.

Had he? she wondered, but the answer came quickly enough. He had... Because yesterday she hadn't finished the larger serving...

He hadn't asked if she was eating enough.
Hadn't gently encouraged her.
Hadn't offered sympathy.
He had simply... paid attention.
And she wasn't sure why that unsettled her.

Her room overlooked the eastern side of the mountain and was like it was pulled from one of David’s anime shows: Traditional tatami flooring, sliding shoji doors, a small writing desk, one immaculate futon folded neatly against the wall.

Nothing extravagant. Nothing excessive. Luxury expressed through simplicity rather than indulgence.

Her suitcase rested exactly where she'd placed it six days earlier: open and half-full/half-packed. She looked at it for a long moment...

She hadn't unpacked much. Maybe one pair of shoes, toiletries, and two changes of clothes. Everything else remained folded exactly as the airline staff had placed it.

She told herself she'd simply been busy – after so many days of solitude and mountain-nature, though, the excuse almost made her laugh.

Busy doing what? she mocked herself. Watching mountains? Counting sleepless nights? Searching airline schedules she never booked?

Quietly, she walked toward the suitcase and knelt beside it, resting her hands on the zipper. Just unpack. she tried to tell herself. It would take ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

The wardrobe stood empty only a few feet away and she opened it. It was beautiful, freshly polished cedar wood. The woman simply stared at it... then quietly closed the doors again.

"No." The answer escaped before she'd consciously thought it. Not today...

She stood and moved toward the window instead. Outside, a pair of sparrows hopped through the carefully maintained garden. They appeared utterly unconcerned with the world. Lucky...

Getting ready, dressed, and started with her day took longer than the former world champion would have liked, but by late morning, she'd wandered into town.

Takayama remained wonderfully indifferent to tourism - with its small shops, stone pathways, traditional wooden buildings preserved from another century. People moved without hurry.

And best of all... Nobody recognized her. Not once.

At times, it felt liberating. To not be seen as ‘the betrayer’ that stole from her partner. As ‘the evilest person in SCW’. As ‘a person that deserves to live and die alone and in misery...’

At other, times, however, like this morning, the lack of being ‘known’ felt strangely disorienting...

For so many years, being seen had become synonymous with existing. She had spent so much of her life trying to avoid infamy, then embracing fame, then embracing fame AND infamy. Now, for perhaps the first time... she could disappear completely.

The realization was both comforting and frightening.

As a breeze gently brushed past her, Selena stopped outside a tiny stationery shop, the sight of the paper, brushes, handmade journals, and origami intriguing her. As the platinum-blonde stepped inside, an elderly woman smiled politely at her, her expression the same as everyone else her:

No spark of recognition.
No widening eyes.
Just another customer.

Enjoying the bit of comfort that knowledge gave her, Selena simply wandered around the shop, taking in all the little things she hadn’t seen before in New York or anywhere else in her constant travels. She had been to Japan before in her SCW tours, but never this far into the ‘remote’ parts. Eventually, she found herself standing outside again, the breeze greeting her once again, carrying with it the scent of rain.

For the first time in months, even if it was just for a few minutes... she wasn't thinking about wrestling... Until her phone vibrated. Reaching into her pocket, she spotted the email she had been sent – the update she had denied herself since she had refused Deanna’s gift of the Rise to Greatness main-event.

‘SCW Office’ the address stated. Selena closed her eyes. Of course...

She almost ignored it – almost. Instead, she opened the email with a swipe and press of her thumb. The attached document downloaded slowly, updating her on her next show-

Breakdown, July 23rd
Tag Team Championships.
Light in the Darkness.
Deanna Frost.
Selena Frost.

Her eyes stopped moving. She read the names again. And again. And again. And again. There has to be some kind of mistake! She stood there on the side of the street, reading and re-reading the lines.

It didn’t make sense! Why was this being considered? Her and Deanna... Partners in wrestling again. A tag-team again...

She looked away from the screen. The mountains suddenly seemed farther away for some reason as the Snow Queen’s mind raced. How she ended up walking back to the ryokan, she had no idea. She had barely managed to look at her phone once or twice, but it had been enough to get some clarification.

Amelia challenging The House of Frost – a pitiful bit of ego to ‘prove herself’ as the world champion... by having Luz help her against a tag-team that hadn’t fought together in years! She’d laugh at the ‘logic’ by her friend (former or otherwise) if it wasn’t so infuriating.

That’s all this was. Amelia interrupting Deanna, declaring up and down it didn’t matter who she faced at RtG? Mentioning Selena’s name and the match at Hubris over and over again, like her existence depended on that win.

Ego... that’s what it came down to. Amelia had won the number one contender match through a mult-person match. Then, she had won the world title through a similar match. Then she had retained the world title using a tag-team match.

The pattern was so obvious. Amelia was succeeding when eyes were OFF her. When she could hide behind someone like an opponent or Luz. It’s why she had caught the win at Retribution, why she had caught the Glimmers during the Trios cash-in, and... Why she caught me... Selena thought, more shame than actual blame in her thought, but the facts were the facts.

She had had Gavin beat. Pinned, and Amelia had snuck up from behind and stole her prize, her moment. It was all fair – those were the rules of such matches... but Amelia seemed convinced that made her a ‘worthwhile’, ‘true’, and ‘best’ champion... when every time she had stood on her own – with no one to hide behind, she had failed.

Her record in singles matches this year was proof positive of that – probably why she ran to Delatosso in the first place...

It was then, with the sound of thunder in her ears, that Selena had realized she had walked back into the ryokan, dismissing the ‘strategy’ of the SCW world champion. It has nothing to do with being ‘the best tag-team in SCW’... Selena lastly thought. House of Frost isn’t that and hasn’t been for years... this is because you can’t beat either of us on your own... not like Luz can...

The rain kept began falling in slow, deliberate drops. Gazing out the nearby window, Selena watched every one of them, finally shutting her thoughts off. It didn’t matter Amelia’s reasons... it was Deanna’s response that truly stunned her to her core.

‘Yes.’

Deanna had said yes, accepting the challenge. Why? She was already Adrenaline Champion! She was set to, possibly, become the world champion, especially if Amelia kept hypocritically underestimating the redhead. So why risk that and whatever mental-edge/mystery Deanna possessed over Amelia? A loss could destroy all that and give a massive disadvantage to Deanna headed to the big pay-per-view.

And if she wins... if you win...

A bird landed briefly on the stone lantern outside before disappearing again, causing Selena to stare at the garden.
At her phone.
At nothing.

She shook her head. "No." Her voice carried more certainty. "No."

Except she didn’t know what she was saying ‘no’ to. Because her first instinct upon catching up to the world of SCW and Amelia’s challenged hadn't been to refuse...

It had been to imagine it.

Standing beside Deanna.
Walking toward the ring together.
Hearing their names announced.
Feeling...Normal. Loved. Wanted. Accepted...
Forgiven...

She shut her eyes tightly. "No." she growled to herself. Not because she didn't want it. Because she wanted it far too much. The thought alone hurt enough to steal her breath. She wanted it... but she didn’t deserve it!

She reached for her laptop quickly. This place was too quiet. Too small. Too nice for someone like her. Without thinking, she opened the laptop up and loaded the airline website. Her recent search history read like a bucket-list!

Tokyo.
Vancouver.
Anchorage.
Sapporo.
Italy.
Spain.
Nome, Alaska.

Her hand hovered over the last one. One click...

That's all.

One click - she could be there tomorrow night. She imagined the frozen shoreline. The endless snow.
The little cabin. The silence.

Then... Another memory. Deanna standing there in the mine - not giving up.

Selena's hand withdrew as though burned and she closed the laptop immediately. Nome wasn't hiding anymore. It hadn't been since Deanna had crossed an ocean just to bring her home.

Going back there now would mean admitting she wanted to be found again.

Outside, the rain fell harder. The mountains had disappeared behind a wall of pale gray mist, leaving only the nearest cedar trees visible through the steady curtain of rain. The tea beside her phone – holding the video of Amelia’s challenge - had long since gone cold.

She reached for it anyway, taking a bitter sip and smiling faintly. "Serves me right."

Her eyes drifted toward the open suitcase once more - still half-packed. Almost accusing. With a weary sigh, she finally stood.

"Enough." she proclaimed. Not because she intended to stay, but because she was tired of pretending she wasn't avoiding it. Carefully, she knelt before the suitcase, taking one shirt, folding it and placing it into the wardrobe. Another shirt followed. Then a pair of jeans. Then running shoes. Toiletries.

Halfway through the task, her hand stopped as it felt the fabric. Beneath a neatly folded sweater lay another piece of clothing.

Emerald Green.
Oversized.
Soft.
And recognizable in a second.

Selena stared at it as she lifted it carefully, the fabric sagging comfortably in her hands.

Deanna's. Not one that looked like Deanna's. One that was.

The sleeves were just too long, one cuff had the faintest stain from paint that had never quite washed out after the two of them redecorated the upstairs hallway years ago and it was Deanna’s favourite color – same color as her eyes.

"How..." She searched her memory. Nothing. Had she packed it by mistake long ago and then again when she had fled the Eyrie Tower? Had it somehow ended up mixed with her clothes after one of the countless moves or maybe the few times she had travelled with Deanna this year or stayed with her?

Or... had she knowingly placed it there months ago? She honestly couldn't tell anymore.

Slowly, her fingers tightened around the fabric, lifting it toward her face. Why am I doing this? the rational mind asked as the heart continued to act.

There it was – Faint... but still there.

Laundry detergent. Lavender. And something impossible to describe beyond one simple truth: Home. Forever Home...

A shaky breath escaped the Snow Queen. And for one impossible heartbeat, the room disappeared into a hotel in Chicago years earlier.

Snow falling outside, Deanna emerging from the bathroom wearing one of Selena's hoodies. Selena had laughed.

"Red."
"What?"
"That's mine."
"I know."
"You have your own."
"I know."
"So..."

Deanna had shrugged with complete sincerity. "Yours is softer."
"It literally isn't."
"It is."
"It came from the same store."
"I don't make the rules."
"You absolutely make the rules."
"No." Deanna had smiled. "I just ignore yours."

Selena opened her eyes, the memory vanishing as quietly as it had arrived, her eyes back down at the sweater.

"You always stole my hoodies." A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Guess, I finally stole one back." Except I still owe a world title shot and gods know what else...

Quietly. The platinum-blonde folded the hoodie but didn’t place it in the wardrobe with the others. Instead, she draped it carefully over the back of the chair beside the window. Just like home...

A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts - three soft taps. Eventually, Selena reached the door and slid it open. The elderly proprietor stood waiting with the evening tea service balanced carefully on a lacquered tray – making Selena suddenly aware of how much time has actually passed.

He bowed, which she returned. "Arigatou." she said on habit.  

He smiled but said nothing. Instead, he reached into the sleeve of his yukata, producing a tiny folded paper crane – Delicate, white, and perfectly formed.

He held it out with both hands, casuing Selena to blink in surprise.

"For me?"
He simply smiled and nodded.

Carefully, Selena accepted it, the paper weighing almost nothing. For that, the elderly man bowed again, then quietly walked away. No explanation. No expectation. Just...kindness. Selena watched him disappear down the hallway before closing the door.

The crane rested in her palm and she slowly turned it over, examining the careful folds, the impossibly precise creases, and the expert shape. It really did look like a little bird in her pale hands.

Unfortunately, for it, curiosity won.

Very gently, Selena unfolded it – one crease at a time - until the crane became nothing more than a square of white paper...

Blank. Completely blank.

Selena frowned. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but blank wasn’t it. Maybe something like a fortune cookie? She almost laughed at herself.

There was nothing there within this ‘bird gift’. No message. No blessing. No instructions. No insight. No advice. Not even a set of ‘lucky numbers’

Nothing.

With a sad sigh, she carefully folded the crane back together – not as perfectly as the old man had done. Not even close – but she had tried. One wing sat slightly lower than the other and the neck leaned awkwardly and the folds refused to line up.

She laughed quietly through unexpectedly wet eyes at the bird she had damaged beyond her own inability to repair. "Deanna would've fixed you."

A tear escaped before she could stop it and the platinum-blonde wiped it away almost immediately. Not because crying embarrassed her, but because it solved nothing.

Carefully, she carried the crooked crane to the writing desk. Beside her, the suitcase remained open.

There was one more thing at the very bottom, wrapped carefully inside an old T-shirt. Something she hadn't looked at it in months... maybe longer.

Slowly, carefully, perhaps even hesitantly, she reached for it, pulling a small wooden picture out. The photograph had faded slightly around the edges.

And the image: Five people standing on a beach in Nome.

Elsianna laughing because David had just thrown sand at Amiliah and Amiliah sticking her tongue out. Deanna smiling directly at Selena instead of the camera. And Selena, herself... looking back at Deanna. Neither of them had noticed the photograph being taken at the time.

With a sad smile, Selena traced Deanna's face with one thumb. "Red..." she whispered. “Pet...” Her voice cracked. "Why can’t you understand? I don't know how to come back..."

Not to Alaska.
Not to Manhattan.
To herself.

That was the part nobody understood, not even the woman she loved more than anything. She wasn't hiding from Deanna anymore. She was hiding from the woman Deanna still believed existed.

Because what if Deanna was wrong? What if that woman had died years ago? What if what everyone had said for years – what Syren kept saying – was true? That the Blue-Eyed Devil hadn't been a mask, but the truth all along?

She closed her eyes. In over ten years as a wrestler, no matter what she did, the questions never stopped - they only changed shape... Guilty until proven innocence, no matter what she did, what she sacrificed, what she tried to be...

She placed the photograph beside the paper crane. Outside, the rain finally began to ease. Once more, the mountains slowly emerged from the mist - Not all at once, but peak by peak. As though they had never truly disappeared.

Selena watched them until darkness settled across the valley – time continuing to just slip away from her in this little world, until she felt the pull of sleep calling to her.

Silently, she prepared the futon and lay down, pulling the blanket to her shoulders, and closing her eyes.

Sleep refused to come - it always did. Almost unconsciously, her right hand reached across the futon...Searching.

Years of habit.
Years of marriage.
Years of finding another hand in the darkness without needing to open her eyes.

This time, there was only cool linen. Even so, she left her hand there anyway, feeling the familiar sting of loss in her soul, as prominent as the sting of tears under her closed eyes. Eventually, like so many quiet nights along, her voice whispered into the darkness.

"Goodnight, Deanna."

No answer came - she hadn't expected one. And it was her fault.

Because the truth was, Deanna wasn't gone. She was simply somewhere Selena wasn't brave enough to return to.

And somewhere beneath the guilt, beneath the fear, beneath the woman the world had come to call the Blue-Eyed Devil... Selena Frost knew that the no one believed in her more than Deanna... but there wasn’t a soul alive – not even in SCW – that didn’t believe in the good in Selena Frost more than...

Than Selena Frost.

And no amount of hope, cranes, and well-wishes was going to change that.