The first sign that something was terribly wrong didn't come from the sky.
It came from the ground.
A dry, deep crack echoed beneath everyone's feet—a sound too deep to be just crumbling stone. It was the noise of something ancient breaking apart, like a continental plate fracturing after enduring pressure for too long.
Kael felt it before he saw it.
The sole of his boot sank an inch into the ground… and froze.
Not ordinary ice.
Not magical ice.
White ice.
The same residue that had remained of Seraphyne.
Only now… it was spreading.
"Shit," Kael muttered, already moving.
Too late.
The entire ground screamed.
Not in sound—in vibration.
A wave of white ice exploded from the palace like an invisible tide, surging across the battlefield in every direction. Wherever it touched, the earth didn't freeze: it was replaced.
Stone turned to opaque crystal.
Grass became brittle blades.
Roots shattered like glass.
Witches on the ground had no time to react.
