The knight outside the tent was cold, snowy, and loud. The wind never calmed down, and only grew more violent with each passing minute. The temperature dropped lower and lower, turning the entire place outside the camp into a deadly blizzard.
The trees in the distance groaned, the shattered surface of the bay that was about to freeze quaked and tore open once more, turning into boiling waves of frigid water.
Arad tried to take a short look outside, and he could feel his fingers freezing, his hair falling apart, and his skin burning in the crushing cold. It was so cold outside that he found it almost hard to believe this was just mundane cold. If Gojo didn't build those stone houses for them, they would've suffered the whole night.
It wasn't just a normal blizzard outside, but a whole tempest of snow, ice, and violent torrents of crushing wind. It was impossible to imagine any living being surviving in this place, except white dragons.
