The Void-Ice answered his will before the thought had even finished forming.
It began at the corners of the room—tendrils of absolute ice darkness unfurling from the spaces between molecules like the first lazy breath of a slumbering god waking up bored.
They bloomed outward in fractal patterns of impossible geometry, crystalline lattices of frozen void that drank light greedily and gave back nothing but the cold, patient hunger of entropy itself.
Each tendril split, multiplied, and wove together into configurations that hurt to look at directly—patterns that existed in dimensions the human eye was never meant to perceive and the human mind was never meant to survive.
The temperature didn't merely drop but surrendered.
Warmth fled the room like cowardly prey scenting a far superior predator.
