The sapphire frost did not fall like snow. It fell like shards of a broken sky, silent and razor-sharp, each flake carrying a microscopic weight of the Void. Where it touched the jasmine petals, the flowers didn't just wither; they crystallized into brittle blue glass that shattered with a sound like a dying gasp. The sweet scent of the valley was replaced by the ozone of the Deep—a cold, metallic smell that made the lungs ache and the blood turn to slush.
I stood in the center of the jasmine clearing, my red-gold scales glowing with a frantic, pulsing heat. I was the only source of warmth in a world that was rapidly turning to sapphire stone. The "unbound" refugees were huddling together, a mass of ten thousand gold-eyed souls whose collective terror was a screaming static in my mind.
"Form the perimeter!" Kaelen's voice roared, cutting through the panic.
