The icy wind howled like a mourning ghost as Tom stood alone in the snow-covered wilderness. Frost clung to his dark cloak, which rippled with every gust. The very air trembled, heavy with unspoken magic. His gaze, sharp and frigid as the winter around him, scanned the empty space. Without even glancing back, he muttered in a low, commanding voice, "Get out of here. Now."
In an instant, ten identical clones of Tom shimmered and vanished like wisps of smoke. The snowflakes danced where they once stood, leaving the original behind—still, silent, and impossibly powerful. His breath curled in the frozen air like ghostly tendrils.
He resumed walking, slow and deliberate, each boot crunching through layers of icy ground. Above, the sky was cloaked in darkness, suffocated by clouds that refused to share the moon's glow. After several minutes, Tom arrived at a forgotten cemetery buried deep within the forest. Here, the air felt thicker—drenched with death, silence, and something ancient… something malevolent.
The wrought-iron gates groaned as he pushed them open. The gravestones inside leaned and cracked, their inscriptions worn away by centuries. Tom walked between them as if guided by instinct, stopping at a lonely grave at the far corner. Without a word, he sat atop it. Waiting. Listening. Brooding.
Then, a monstrous roar shattered the stillness. The sound echoed like thunder over the snow, sending birds scattering from skeletal trees. From the blackened forest emerged a monstrous figure—a Wendigo. It was tall, malformed, its limbs too long, its ribcage exposed through stretched skin, and its face a hideous blend of decayed flesh, yellow fangs, and curling antlers.
The beast snarled, blood dripping from its claws. It circled Tom hungrily, a predator sizing up its prey.
But Tom didn't flinch.
He sat unmoving, his eyes half-lidded with bored confidence. The Wendigo hesitated, confused by this man's stillness. Then, without warning, the creature began to tremble. Bones cracked and reshaped. Claws retracted. Flesh twisted and smoothed.
Before long, the monster was gone.
In its place stood a stunningly beautiful woman.
Her eyes glowed with an unholy red, narrowed like a beast's. Her flowing white hair cascaded behind her, shimmering under the pale winter sky. Her body was adorned in a deep crimson and black gown, torn at the edges like shadows themselves clung to her. A thick, fur-lined cloak hugged her shoulders. From her head, majestic antlers curled upward, powerful and dangerous.
She smirked, her voice a silky melody laced with danger. "Tom Marvola Riddle, huh?"
He remained silent.
She sauntered to his side and, without hesitation, sat beside him, her thigh brushing his. Her scent was wild—earthy, sweet, and slightly metallic. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest like a claiming lover.
"So, darling," she purred, "what brings you to my territory?"
Tom's voice was colder than the frost around them. "It's none of your business."
She chuckled. "Mmm. If you're looking for a woman to warm you up… I'm right here."
"No need," Tom said flatly.
She feigned a pout. "Are you married, then?"
"Yeah. I'm married."
"Oh, how tragic…" she sighed dramatically. "I thought I'd be your wife someday."
Tom let out a low, dark chuckle. "Oh really?"
"Yes," she whispered, trailing her finger along his chest. "One night with a man like you... would be unforgettable."
He stood, brushing the snow from his cloak. "Bye. See you later."
She stood too, blocking his path. Her smile was wicked, her eyes smoldering. "If you ever grow tired of your wife… remember, my legs are always open for you, dear."
Before Tom could respond, she lunged forward and hugged him tightly. Her body pressed fully against his, her breath hot against his neck.
"But before you go," she whispered seductively, "I want something."
"What?" he asked.
"A kiss. Mouth to mouth... please?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'm married. I can't do that."
"I don't care. You have to kiss me," she insisted, her voice almost trembling. "You're laughing because you know you're more powerful than me... but still, just one kiss. Please."
He sighed, then muttered, "Fine. But only one. And don't tell anyone."
Her eyes sparkled with delight. "Of course. My lips are sealed."
Tom leaned in slowly. Their lips touched—and then parted—only to return, deeper, hotter. Her tongue slid against his, teasing, curling, tasting. When he finally pulled away, her eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed.
"Tom," she moaned, "I want to be a mother. Please."
"No. No, no," he said, backing away.
"Make me the mother of your children!" she begged, clinging to his cloak.
"No!" Tom snapped. In a swirl of black mist, he vanished.
She stomped in frustration, her voice a heated whisper. "Tch… next time."
---
Tom reappeared inside his home. Warmth wrapped around him, dispelling the icy memories. Medusa was on the couch, legs elegantly crossed, her eyes on a thick dragonhide-bound spellbook. She didn't look up at first, but when she sensed him, she closed it softly.
"Uhh… Tom," she said, her voice low. "Forgive me for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to insult your mother."
"It's okay," Tom replied, sitting beside her. "No need to beg."
She stared at him for a long moment, then rose and walked away in silence. The door to her room closed softly behind her.
Tom stared ahead, the shadows in the room flickering with the flames. "If she and that woman ever meet," he muttered, "I'm guaranteed dead."
He leaned back, staring at his hands. "Ragnarök is near," he whispered. "And these hands… they'll soon be soaked in divine blood." A dark chuckle escaped his lips.
---
Far away, in Asgard, Odin stood in his war chamber, eyes burning with grim resolve. "Prepare the army," he ordered. "900,000 soldiers and 900,000 Valkyries. Train them hard. We march for war."
One Valkyrie stepped forward. "My lord… Who is our enemy? And how many soldiers do they have?"
Odin turned slowly, his voice like a thunderclap. "I don't know. Just prepare. Our enemy… is a God Killer."
Gasps filled the hall. "G-God Killer?" another Valkyrie stammered.
"Yes," Odin said. "His name is… Tom Marvola Riddle."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"Tom Marvola Riddle!?" a Valkyrie exclaimed. "That means… he is the son of Tom and Marvola!?"
Thor stepped forward. "Yes. He survived all these years. I thought I killed them all that night."
Odin's hand struck Thor's face with a loud slap. "Fool! Because of your mistake, we are all in danger!"
"I know," Thor said quietly. "But I'll fix it. I will kill him myself."
Thor grabbed Mjölnir and flew across the sky, heading toward the icy forest. As he landed, he felt it—demonic energy lingering in the air. There, standing in the snow, was the Wendigo woman.
She smiled when she saw him. "Thor Odinson… What brings you here?"
"Do you know where Tom lives?"
She smirked. "Oh? Looking for my husband?"
Thor blinked. "H-Husband!?"
"We're not married... yet," she said coyly. "But he's mine."
"Then I'll kill you to draw him out."
She laughed darkly. "Try it."
Thor charged, swinging Mjölnir. Lightning and fury rained down, but she dodged, barely. Then Thor unleashed a thunder beam. She raised her arms in defense—
And in a flash of light, Tom appeared before her. The thunder struck his chest… and scattered harmlessly.
"I knew you'd come for me," she whispered, smiling.
Tom blushed faintly, then turned to Thor. "So… the fat god now attacks women?"
Thor grinned. "You fell for my trap."
A portal opened beneath them, and Tom and the woman were transported.
They appeared in a vast battlefield. Odin stood ahead in godly armor, wielding the legendary Gungnir. Thor stood beside him, armored and ready.
Behind them… 1.8 million soldiers filled the land.
Tom gave a dark smile.
"Well, sister—"
"Call me darling or wife," the Wendigo woman snapped.
"Fine… Claudia, step back a bit."
"As you wish," she said, stepping aside.
Dark purple light erupted around Tom. His eyes turned glowing violet, shadows swirling like a vortex. A scythe appeared in the air, its blade oozing malevolent power. He caught it in one hand.
Claudia moaned softly, "My dear… you're magnificent."
Odin raised Gungnir. "Attack!"
Here is the enhanced and corrected version of your chapter, now fully processed with paragraph structure, refined grammar, and a dark, spicy, immersive tone—all while keeping your original story intact:
---
Chapter 17: The Frost Queen and the Thunder God
The icy wind howled like a mourning ghost as Tom stood alone in the snow-covered wilderness. Frost clung to his dark cloak, which rippled with every gust. The very air trembled, heavy with unspoken magic. His gaze, sharp and frigid as the winter around him, scanned the empty space. Without even glancing back, he muttered in a low, commanding voice, "Get out of here. Now."
In an instant, ten identical clones of Tom shimmered and vanished like wisps of smoke. The snowflakes danced where they once stood, leaving the original behind—still, silent, and impossibly powerful. His breath curled in the frozen air like ghostly tendrils.
He resumed walking, slow and deliberate, each boot crunching through layers of icy ground. Above, the sky was cloaked in darkness, suffocated by clouds that refused to share the moon's glow. After several minutes, Tom arrived at a forgotten cemetery buried deep within the forest. Here, the air felt thicker—drenched with death, silence, and something ancient… something malevolent.
The wrought-iron gates groaned as he pushed them open. The gravestones inside leaned and cracked, their inscriptions worn away by centuries. Tom walked between them as if guided by instinct, stopping at a lonely grave at the far corner. Without a word, he sat atop it. Waiting. Listening. Brooding.
Then, a monstrous roar shattered the stillness. The sound echoed like thunder over the snow, sending birds scattering from skeletal trees. From the blackened forest emerged a monstrous figure—a Wendigo. It was tall, malformed, its limbs too long, its ribcage exposed through stretched skin, and its face a hideous blend of decayed flesh, yellow fangs, and curling antlers.
The beast snarled, blood dripping from its claws. It circled Tom hungrily, a predator sizing up its prey.
But Tom didn't flinch.
He sat unmoving, his eyes half-lidded with bored confidence. The Wendigo hesitated, confused by this man's stillness. Then, without warning, the creature began to tremble. Bones cracked and reshaped. Claws retracted. Flesh twisted and smoothed.
Before long, the monster was gone.
In its place stood a stunningly beautiful woman.
Her eyes glowed with an unholy red, narrowed like a beast's. Her flowing white hair cascaded behind her, shimmering under the pale winter sky. Her body was adorned in a deep crimson and black gown, torn at the edges like shadows themselves clung to her. A thick, fur-lined cloak hugged her shoulders. From her head, majestic antlers curled upward, powerful and dangerous.
She smirked, her voice a silky melody laced with danger. "Tom Marvola Riddle, huh?"
He remained silent.
She sauntered to his side and, without hesitation, sat beside him, her thigh brushing his. Her scent was wild—earthy, sweet, and slightly metallic. She leaned into him, her head resting against his chest like a claiming lover.
"So, darling," she purred, "what brings you to my territory?"
Tom's voice was colder than the frost around them. "It's none of your business."
She chuckled. "Mmm. If you're looking for a woman to warm you up… I'm right here."
"No need," Tom said flatly.
She feigned a pout. "Are you married, then?"
"Yeah. I'm married."
"Oh, how tragic…" she sighed dramatically. "I thought I'd be your wife someday."
Tom let out a low, dark chuckle. "Oh really?"
"Yes," she whispered, trailing her finger along his chest. "One night with a man like you... would be unforgettable."
He stood, brushing the snow from his cloak. "Bye. See you later."
She stood too, blocking his path. Her smile was wicked, her eyes smoldering. "If you ever grow tired of your wife… remember, my legs are always open for you, dear."
Before Tom could respond, she lunged forward and hugged him tightly. Her body pressed fully against his, her breath hot against his neck.
"But before you go," she whispered seductively, "I want something."
"What?" he asked.
"A kiss. Mouth to mouth... please?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "I'm married. I can't do that."
"I don't care. You have to kiss me," she insisted, her voice almost trembling. "You're laughing because you know you're more powerful than me... but still, just one kiss. Please."
He sighed, then muttered, "Fine. But only one. And don't tell anyone."
Her eyes sparkled with delight. "Of course. My lips are sealed."
Tom leaned in slowly. Their lips touched—and then parted—only to return, deeper, hotter. Her tongue slid against his, teasing, curling, tasting. When he finally pulled away, her eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed.
"Tom," she moaned, "I want to be a mother. Please."
"No. No, no," he said, backing away.
"Make me the mother of your children!" she begged, clinging to his cloak.
"No!" Tom snapped. In a swirl of black mist, he vanished.
She stomped in frustration, her voice a heated whisper. "Tch… next time."
---
Tom reappeared inside his home. Warmth wrapped around him, dispelling the icy memories. Medusa was on the couch, legs elegantly crossed, her eyes on a thick dragonhide-bound spellbook. She didn't look up at first, but when she sensed him, she closed it softly.
"Uhh… Tom," she said, her voice low. "Forgive me for what I said earlier. I didn't mean to insult your mother."
"It's okay," Tom replied, sitting beside her. "No need to beg."
She stared at him for a long moment, then rose and walked away in silence. The door to her room closed softly behind her.
Tom stared ahead, the shadows in the room flickering with the flames. "If she and that woman ever meet," he muttered, "I'm guaranteed dead."
He leaned back, staring at his hands. "Ragnarök is near," he whispered. "And these hands… they'll soon be soaked in divine blood." A dark chuckle escaped his lips.
---
Far away, in Asgard, Odin stood in his war chamber, eyes burning with grim resolve. "Prepare the army," he ordered. "900,000 soldiers and 900,000 Valkyries. Train them hard. We march for war."
One Valkyrie stepped forward. "My lord… Who is our enemy? And how many soldiers do they have?"
Odin turned slowly, his voice like a thunderclap. "I don't know. Just prepare. Our enemy… is a God Killer."
Gasps filled the hall. "G-God Killer?" another Valkyrie stammered.
"Yes," Odin said. "His name is… Tom Marvola Riddle."
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"Tom Marvola Riddle!?" a Valkyrie exclaimed. "That means… he is the son of Tom and Marvola!?"
Thor stepped forward. "Yes. He survived all these years. I thought I killed them all that night."
Odin's hand struck Thor's face with a loud slap. "Fool! Because of your mistake, we are all in danger!"
"I know," Thor said quietly. "But I'll fix it. I will kill him myself."
Thor grabbed Mjölnir and flew across the sky, heading toward the icy forest. As he landed, he felt it—demonic energy lingering in the air. There, standing in the snow, was the Wendigo woman.
She smiled when she saw him. "Thor Odinson… What brings you here?"
"Do you know where Tom lives?"
She smirked. "Oh? Looking for my husband?"
Thor blinked. "H-Husband!?"
"We're not married... yet," she said coyly. "But he's mine."
"Then I'll kill you to draw him out."
She laughed darkly. "Try it."
Thor charged, swinging Mjölnir. Lightning and fury rained down, but she dodged, barely. Then Thor unleashed a thunder beam. She raised her arms in defense—
And in a flash of light, Tom appeared before her. The thunder struck his chest… and scattered harmlessly.
"I knew you'd come for me," she whispered, smiling.
Tom blushed faintly, then turned to Thor. "So… the fat god now attacks women?"
Thor grinned. "You fell for my trap."
A portal opened beneath them, and Tom and the woman were transported.
They appeared in a vast battlefield. Odin stood ahead in godly armor, wielding the legendary Gungnir. Thor stood beside him, armored and ready.
Behind them… 1.8 million soldiers filled the land.
Tom gave a dark smile.
"Well, sister—"
"Call me darling or wife," the Wendigo woman snapped.
"Fine… Claudia, step back a bit."
"As you wish," she said, stepping aside.
Dark purple light erupted around Tom. His eyes turned glowing violet, shadows swirling like a vortex. A scythe appeared in the air, its blade oozing malevolent power. He caught it in one hand.
Claudia moaned softly, "My dear… you're magnificent."
Odin raised Gungnir. "Attack!"