Chapter 4
Nordic Ice Trophy competition
The moment had come. Alisa and Lev stepped toward the ice, and a swirl of emotions gripped Alisa—fear, excitement, and a sharp tension all at once.
Today, everyone performed in groups. Alisa and Lev were in the last group, Group E.
At first, it seemed like an advantage since they could start quietly, without the morning rush.
But there was a downside: by evening, energy often ran low, and those who performed earlier sometimes scored higher.
Still, they were determined. They had come to win, to be noticed, to secure a spot in the Olympic qualifiers.
They stood in the hall, ready to go on the ice.
Alisa’s heart pounded so fast that her hands went cold.
Pike checked their costumes one last time.
Alisa wore a white dress with ruffles that fluttered with each movement and rhinestones that caught the light, sparkling like tiny stars whenever Lev tossed her overhead.
When they stepped onto the ice, Pike gave them a nod. They had six minutes for a general warm-up. The last five pairs of the day would skate after them; the rest had already performed.
The audience clapped politely, though most seemed tired from watching earlier performances.
Judges would tally the points after the last group, and the standings would be announced.
Alisa pushed all distractions aside and focused entirely on Lev.
Their goal was simple — to execute their program perfectly, earn maximum points, and secure a place among the day’s top performers.
During the warm-up, everyone concentrated differently.
Some quickly tried tricky elements that still felt uncertain.
Others tested the ice, gauging its grip and speed.
A few, like the Fins, smiled freely, skating as if nothing could touch them.
But there were no smiles on Alisa and Lev’s faces, and their expressions were entirely Slavic, with no emotions, just a sense of severity and focus on the elements.
When it came time for their performance, they were first in the group. It was a heavy responsibility, they would set the standard for the rest. Alisa and Lev held their heads high as they glided to the center of the ice. Their names and country were announced, and the music began.
The choreography started.
The lights in the arena dimmed, leaving only a soft spotlight on Alisa and Lev in their snow-white costumes, which glimmered like frost in the winter air.
They stood at the starting point, frozen for a heartbeat, the crowd hushed in anticipation.
Alisa struck the opening pose of her character—a young, dreamy girl, naive and playful, who seemed entirely caught up in her own world, oblivious to the chase of her suitor.
Every movement was meant to breathe innocence and lightness, and already, the audience could feel the charm.
Alisa turned away from Lev, gazing into the darkened arena, exhaling slowly, and for a moment, she seemed untouchable, suspended in her own little universe.
Lev lowered himself to one knee beside her, reaching out with open hands, inviting her into the story, a silent promise that he would always be there.
And then the music began: Debussy’s “Rêverie,” specially trimmed for a short program, but preserving the best moments of this piece of music.
The program began with soft, sweeping steps, their blades gliding over the ice like wind brushing through snow.
Every movement was in perfect harmony, Alisa and Lev’s bodies instinctively mirrored each other.
They twirled lightly, spinning on their axes, Lev drawing Alisa close so she leaned back on his knee, almost floating.
Twizzles, spins, lifts—they moved together like a single body, synchronized perfectly. Alisa felt the thrill of the ice beneath her blades, the adrenaline in her chest, and the quiet, steady assurance that she and Lev were ready for this moment.
Then, with a playful flick of her body, she slipped away from Lev, and he followed her with effortless grace.
They flowed into the first lifts and supports.
Lev hoisted Alisa high above his head, arms steady, holding her for nearly half a minute.
She spun in the air, parallel to the ice, her arms stretched wide, her back arched perfectly, every turn timed to the music.
When he lowered her, he didn’t release her immediately.
Instead, he caught her again, holding her against him as she leaned back, her trust absolute, her body a perfect extension of his.
And just as suddenly, she pulled away playfully and he chased her again, both moving with a rhythm that seemed choreographed by the ice itself.
Next came the twizzles and jumps. They accelerated, spinning in perfect unison, blades carving precise arcs on the ice.
Their double axel soared effortlessly, three rotations completed in harmony, landing softly but sharply at the exact moment.
To the audience, it looked as though a single skater had been split into two, mirrored perfectly in every motion.
The arena erupted in applause; some spectators even stood to cheer, captivated by the beauty and precision.
The applause grew louder and louder, and it seemed that the entire arena was cheering for them. Alisa and Lev were filled with adrenaline and pride, and they continued performing with even more confidence.
They synchronized their steps again, moving backward and spreading their legs apart, allowing themselves to match the beat of the music.
Then, they clasped hands again, preparing for the next element.
It was a support where Lev lifted Alisa high above his head with both straight arms while Alisa performed a transverse split.
Then they shifted into a one-arm support, and Alisa raised her leg, bending it so she could grab the skate with her other hand, trying to create a kind of arch as she bent her back, and the audience literally exploded with applause.
Lev gently lowered Alisa back onto the ice, and they continued skating, taking a short break between elements.
So far, everything was going well.
Their steps became a playful chase. Alisa darted away, spinning, leaping, legs flicking in the air, arms painting wide arcs as if telling the story of a girl being pursued by her own heart.
Lev followed, relentless but tender. At the right moment, Alisa leapt onto his thigh, two knees pressing against him, and they spun together in a whirlwind embrace like lovers reunited after a lifetime apart.
She buried her face in his neck, fleetingly safe, only to pull away again, caught between desire and fear.
Lev was unwavering. He caught her, backward gliding, her arms outstretched in full trust. He sent her into the air with a graceful ejection, her body rotating, momentarily grazing the ice as if teasing gravity itself.
For a split second, Alisa felt the world spin past her, her mind racing, but she landed and kept moving.
Steps became flirtatious and wild, hearts racing with rhythm.
They spun on one leg in the swallow position, then into the pistol spin, accelerating, momentum building like a heartbeat, spinning faster and faster until the ice itself seemed to whirl beneath them.
Releasing the lifted leg, Alisa twisted on her axis.
The next step sequence was more intimate and daring.
Lev bent his knees, rolling Alisa along, her fingers grazing the ice as she leaned over his shoulder.
Their steps slowed, as if the story was drawing to a soft ending.
Then, with a burst of energy, Alisa ran from him again.
He chased, and together they launched into the death spiral—Alisa nearly skimming the ice, supported by only one hand.
Finally, they returned to the center. Steps slowed carefully. Twizzles faded into stillness. They knelt, faces close, gazes locked on each other. The arena roared with admiration, the crowd was on its feet again.
Bowing to the judges on all sides, spinning gently one last time, Lev held Alisa by the waist, steadying her as they glided to the Kiss&Cry area.
Her chest rose and fell with adrenaline and emotion.
A few minor imperfections had cost them some points, but it didn’t matter.
Tomorrow, they would perform again. Tomorrow, they will do it better.
Alisa pressed her lips together, squeezing Lev’s hand tightly as they sat in the waiting area. Her heart hammered so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest. The coach sat beside them, and Alisa drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.
The announcer’s voice echoed across the arena. Their names were called. A pause. That agonizing, breath-stealing moment where the world seemed to hold its breath with them. And then the numbers appeared: 71.20.
Alisa’s eyes immediately swept to the stands. There, she caught Tora’s gaze. The blonde’s smile was sharp, almost predatory, as if she already knew she had the upper hand. Alisa felt a sting in her chest, like a shoulder had been jabbed, and she quickly turned away, cheeks burning.
Tora was already chatting animatedly with her partner, Loke, laughter spilling between them, a quiet proclamation that they were confident, perhaps even triumphant.
“Damn…” Alisa muttered under her breath, teeth clenched, but Lev’s steady grip on her hand anchored her.
To be honest, the pair itself — Alisa and Lev — set a good bar for the others in the group, but they clearly understood that they would most likely be overtaken by the rest. With a clenched jaw, Coach Pike looked at Alisa displeased, and Alisa nodded pitifully, saying, “I know, I made a mistake…” But she knew that she would have to talk to the coach about why they had points deducted, and she was mentally prepared to hear about how insignificant she was.
After taking a nervous breath, she stood up from the stands and left the ice arena, unable to contain her emotions.