The snowstorm had lessened, but the wind still howled like a living beast across the northern plains. Frost glistened on every surface, the icy mist curling around jagged rocks and the trunks of silver pines. Along the endless white path, three figures trudged steadily through knee-deep snow, their breaths misting in the frigid air.
Two of them wore heavy, array-infused winter garments designed to resist cold. But even with the runes glowing faintly on the sleeves, they could still feel the biting chill gnawing at their skin and bones. The energy of this region wasn't normal — the spiritual frost in the atmosphere could kill a mortal in seconds if they dared breathe it in.
Yet the third person among them walked with her coat open, utterly calm, her expression relaxed, as if the snowstorm itself was nothing but a soft breeze.
They were, of course, Tyla, Yumina, and Luman.
