Chilly winds buffeted Xander's face as soft gray clouds gathered overhead, obscuring the light of the midday sun. As the Frostweaver came closer to the fountain, it began to snow, and the temperature plummeted to new extremes.
The old man's face emerged from behind the misty veil, his piercing blue eyes staring straight at Xander. His wrinkled skin looked even paler this time. It was as if his blood had frozen inside his veins, and the only thing keeping him alive was his magic.
With a rapid wave of his staff, the mage unleashed a blast of freezing cold wind which knocked Xander off his feet and flung him away from the frozen fountain. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but the slippery sheet of ice covering the ground made him struggle to find his footing.
