The storm did not announce itself.
There was no thunder, no rising howl of wind to warn them. One moment the Pale Horizon lay stretched and silent beneath the bleeding moon, and the next, the world collapsed into white.
Snow exploded sideways, thick and blinding, driven by a force that felt deliberate rather than natural. Visibility vanished instantly. The horses screamed, rearing in panic as the ground disappeared beneath churning frost.
"Elara—hold on!" Ryon shouted, gripping the reins as ice lashed his face like thrown blades.
The wind howled now, but not wildly. It moved in controlled surges, pulsing in measured waves, as though something immense breathed just beyond sight. The temperature plummeted so sharply that Ryon felt the cold claw into his lungs with every inhale.
The system surged awake fully, no longer whispering.
"This storm is not weather," it said flatly. "It is jurisdiction."
