The Ice King Lich, a fifteen-foot-tall giant skeleton, roared. It was a sound that should have shattered eardrums and frozen souls. The air in the chamber crystallised instantly, turning into a blizzard so thick you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face.
Your average folks would have been a solid block of ice by now. Their insides frozen to slush, their bodies stiff as sculptures.
But not Liam. All he did was adjust his collar a bit.
"A bit chilly," he said, glancing at Elizabeth, whose pink hair was blowing wildly about her head. She didn't seem bothered. Hell, she looked uninterested. "Elizabeth, you good?"
"Nice and warm," she replied nonchalantly, her tail swishing back and forth with ease. "Though this wind is messing my hair up."
