Riven walked over to the shattered remains, crouching to pick up the faintly glowing crystals scattered across the icy floor. He turned them in his hand briefly before slipping them into his inventory. The silence that followed was eerie, too still for comfort.
Then Twilight's voice echoed in his mind.
"Could it be that it's not actually magic that hurts them, but heat?" she suggested.
Riven paused. "Hmm? What do you mean?"
"Look around," she said. "It's freezing here, unnaturally so. Maybe the monsters on this floor aren't weak to magic itself… but to heat. Anything that raises the temperature might damage them."
Riven glanced around again, taking in the frost clinging to the stone, the air so cold it burned his lungs. Her words made sense.
"Heat-based weakness…" he muttered under his breath. "That would explain why the flames worked so well."
