The wind suddenly picked up.
Snow fell in higher density, thick and blinding, turning the world into a swirl of white. The boy held her smaller body against his, feeling how deathly cold she was, how her limbs had gone stiff, how her skin felt like ice against his hands.
"We can't brave the storm on a horse like this," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
So he reached into his coat and pulled out a messenger pigeon. A grey bird, calm and trusting, tucked against his warmth.
"I'm sorry." His voice was young, embarrassed. "I'm still not good at using my crystal."
Magic crystals required mana control to operate. For Vision Mages, that was natural. Their magic came from the soul, from will and imagination. But Force Mages like Arkai? Their power was in their bodies, their physical enhancement. Manipulating external objects was hard.
