The ice sculptures gleamed in the biting wind. The soldiers frozen inside had twisted, agonized faces, as if still telling the story of their pain before being trapped in ice.

Matthias stared at them, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed the tremor in his chest. He rubbed his arm, which was still stiff where the white mist had touched him. The skin there showed a faint purple discoloration, and the cold seemed to have seeped deep into his bones.

"Your Highness, the freezing breath from