The wind did not merely howl—it screamed.
It tore across the Frozen Spires in jagged bursts, carrying shards of ice sharp enough to draw blood from exposed skin. Neo raised an arm instinctively, the Sword of Light flaring faintly as if reacting to the hostile environment. Around him, the group tightened formation without needing to be told.
"Visibility's dropping," Lira called, her ears flattened against her head as she squinted into the storm. "I can barely see ten metres ahead."
"Then stay closer," Neo replied. "No one wanders."
Beatrix moved in at his side, her usual warmth noticeably dampened by the biting cold. Even her pink glow seemed subdued, flickering under the relentless assault of frost-laden wind. "This place isn't just cold," she muttered. "It's draining."
Ast nodded, planting the butt of her staff against the shifting ice. A faint barrier shimmered outward, deflecting some of the wind. "Ambient mana is unstable. The Warden's influence is everywhere."
