Jolthar approached cautiously, pressing his palm against the ice.
It felt solid beneath his touch, cold but not unbearably so.
The chaos energy continued to swirl around his hand, occasionally sending tendrils that seemed to caress the icy surface.
Taking a deep breath, Jolthar stepped forward, bracing himself for resistance—but instead, he passed through the barrier as though it were merely mist.
The sensation was disorienting—a momentary feeling of intense cold followed by sudden warmth, as though he'd stepped from winter directly into spring.
Turning back, he saw the ice wall still intact, seemingly solid from this side as well.
Beyond it, Maelruth remained in the outer world, separated from him by the mystical barrier.
The drake attempted to follow, pressing her scaled snout against the ice wall, but could not pass through.
The magic, it seemed, recognized only those of chaos touched.
"Maelruth," he called, his voice muffled by the barrier between them.
