It didn't take a genius to see that Northern had just created a battlefield that favored him alone. He'd given himself a powerful advantage while shielding the rest of the world from the destruction their battle would unleash.
Kryos watched him from afar, a soft smile playing on his lips. They were separated by several waves of ice plains now—frozen domes and jagged ridges that stretched between them.
The land looked like a dead ocean caught mid-tempest, every wave frozen into jagged permanence. The mountains—both shattered and whole—leaned into one another as though locked in an eternal struggle, their fractured ridges knitting together into twisted arches and serrated walls. Glittering spires jutted out at impossible angles, some sheared clean in half, others buried in the interlocking crush of their brethren.
