The snow-crusted air stung like tiny daggers as Ren and Lia skidded across the ice-riddled floor of the auditorium, their boots crunching over the frozen chaos.
The whole place looked like it had been locked inside the belly of a glacier.
The walls sparkled with thick frost, the ceiling was crusted with icicles longer than spears, and everything glistened in a haunting bluish glow as if someone had pressed the pause button on reality.
It was like walking into a horror museum built by Mother Nature and decorated by Death herself.
Ren slowed, his kusarigama dragging against the floor with a low metallic ring, and though his body screamed from the hundreds of small wounds covering him, his mind was laser-sharp, drinking in every detail.
His breath fogged in front of him, and beside him, Lia stood in her usual grumpy silence, arms crossed but clearly trying to keep her balance on the slick surface.
