The academy's infirmary was enveloped in a suffocating silence.
Broken only by the ragged gasps of the school's healer.
The old man sat hunched on a stool.
Cradling his hand, where the tips of his fingers had been cleanly severed by an unnatural frost.
His agony filled the room.
But even his groans couldn't overshadow the icy chill that radiated from Noah Ashbourne's unconscious form.
The room was deathly cold.
Every breath released by those present turned into a visible cloud of vapor.
A testament to the biting cold that made the room nearly uninhabitable.
Despite the healer's protests, the academy had called for reinforcements from the Church of St. Eldred.
Whose priests were renowned for handling curses and unnatural phenomena and were originally present due to the princess.
When the door opened, the sound of boots against the stone floor echoed.
Three priests entered.
