Their advance through the giants' territory halted where the earth died to give way to nothingness. Before them stretched the Ocean of Mist, a vast geographic basin where the atmosphere had turned liquid.
It was no common water vapor; it was a dense, milky, static substance that devoured light and sound with an unnatural voracity. The molecules of that vapor seemed to vibrate at a frequency that nullified perception, turning the horizon into an infinite, oppressive white wall.
Lloyd stopped at the edge of the cliff. His boots, reinforced for the extreme climate, crunched on the frost-covered stone. The silence was so absolute he could hear the pumping of his own blood in his ears. He extended his hand to one side, seeking contact without turning his head, keeping his gaze fixed on that abyss of whiteness.
