The descent of the colossal hand brought with it a tide of gelid air that seemed to have physical mass, a gravitational force that forced every atom of oxygen to a halt. The creaking of space was not a sharp sound, but a deep lament, as if the very structure of reality were being crushed under the weight of an ancestral glacier. The frost, fed by primordial ice, did not limit itself to covering surfaces but claimed the void, weaving a web of white fractures that threatened to fix the light into a static tableau of crystalline death.
Alice reacted with a mechanical precision that ignored fear. Just as Lloyd's scream still vibrated in the air, she applied an inhuman tension to her muscles. The ground beneath her feet did not just crack; it disintegrated into a cloud of stone dust and crystals as she projected herself to one side. The fraction of a second was enough. The palm of ice struck the center of the hall and, for an eternal heartbeat, the very concept of movement vanished.
