"So, is this how you're going to awaken those kids?" Sun spoke from behind East, his voice tight, almost spitting with restrained irritation. His arms folded, breath misting against the icy wind.
He honestly could not understand anything East planned and has been planning. He was clearly playing with fire—and with death—now that the Earth's seasons kept tilting out of balance.
All around them, the world bore the signs of strain. Storm fronts clashed unnaturally in the skies, clouds folding over one another like breaking waves.
Far below, near the frozen city, the sound of explosions cracked like thunder, accompanied by the unearthly screech of Asmaros' power. The other Guardians were out there pouring their very souls into maintaining balance, struggling to keep the fragile fabric of the world from splitting apart—while he and East stood atop a lonely snowy cliff, like passive spectators.
