"Zantei."
Reality hiccupped.
The blizzard didn't simply stop. It was edited. Deleted from existence and replaced with something that belonged to me. A sphere fifteen meters in diameter materialized around us, its boundaries marked by bars of golden light that rose from the volcanic stone floor to arch overhead like the ribs of some divine beast. The hurricane winds that had been tearing through the ballroom struck the perimeter and simply... ceased. Not blocked or deflected—erased from the equation entirely.
Inside my domain, the laws of physics bowed to new management.
