The ice keeps growing around Freya's boots.
For an instant, I think she might let the whole arena feel the answer. The stone whitens in a thin layer, rising in small web-shaped crystals that hem the floor outside the barrier. My breath condenses in front of my face, short but visible.
Freya is staring at me. Then she looks around.
The bleachers are full. Any excess could turn an attitude into a defamatory story. Cadets lean their bodies over the seats. Instructors watch with eyes trained to tell training from disaster. The suspended screen still follows the fight, ready to replay anything that looks important.
Freya closes her hand.
The crystals stop advancing.
She breathes deep, heavy, long. The cold pulls back little by little, not vanishing all at once, but returning close to her, as if she were drawing it all back in.
"Let's focus on what matters now."
I nod. Time to step back a little.
She says nothing more.
Inside the arena, Zhang Xi still controls the center.
