Chapter 110: I thought he was going to climb a mountain and bring snow…

Chapter 110: Chapter 110: I thought he was going to climb a mountain and bring snow... "Freezing the room’s temperature is the only way to make her better. You cannot force it into her. The way it was taken, it will be given." Cyrus’s voice was calm—too calm—and yet it rang through the air like thunder. Shelia blinked, completely floored. "That’s not an answer, that’s a riddle! What the hell does that even mean?!" "I mean exactly what I said," Cyrus replied, his tone laced with urgency now. "You can’t just shove warmth into her body and expect her to recover. Her temperature dropped when her core energy was drained. You push it back in the wrong way, and her body will reject it." Kian’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, watching the man with a hunter’s stillness. "So what are you saying? That you want to put her in ice and pray it doesn’t kill her?" "No," Cyrus stepped forward, tone firmer now, eyes flicking toward Isabella’s still form. "I’m saying I’m going to bring her temperature down my way. Precisely. Controlled. I will regulate it myself, keep her in a suspended state—like a pause. A stasis. Just enough to buy time, just enough to realign her internal energy to stabilize." "By freezing her?" Shelia scoffed again. "Do you hear yourself right now?!" "I’m not going to let her freeze, I’m going to slow her," Cyrus said sharply. "Her body is fighting too hard, burning through everything too fast. If I let that continue, she won’t last the night." There was a moment of stunned silence. Kian’s voice came out low, dangerous. "And how exactly do you plan to do all this?" Before he could even finish, Ophelia’s hand shot up like an eager child in class, eyes wide and curious. "Wait! But—how can you do all that? You don’t even have stripes on you." Everyone went still. Even Luca looked up, suddenly more alert. Cyrus didn’t flinch. He just looked at Ophelia and said, "You don’t need to see something on the outside for it to be real. Not everything shows up in the ways you expect." "That’s not an answer either," Shelia snapped, cutting in. "You want us to just trust that you’ve got some miracle ability hidden under your plain, spotless skin? You might as well tell us you’re a god." "I don’t need you to worship me," Cyrus said, gaze hardening. "I need you to move aside. She’s dying, and we are wasting seconds." "But—" Ophelia hesitated. "Why would someone hide something like that? I mean, if you had power... why hide it?" "Because this world doesn’t welcome those who are different." Cyrus’s voice dropped to a chilling hush. "Because some things are better hidden until the right time. Because people like you," he turned to Shelia, "wouldn’t listen unless forced to." Shelia looked like she wanted to slap him. Kian raised a hand. "Enough." His eyes locked on Cyrus’s, cold and calculating. "You touch her, and she gets worse... you won’t live to regret it." Cyrus met his stare head-on. "If I do nothing, she dies. So what’s it going to be?" Kian didn’t blink. Ophelia slowly stepped aside. Luca exhaled loudly, muttering something under his breath, and Shelia crossed her arms, visibly fuming, but no longer arguing. Cyrus knelt beside Isabella, one hand hovering just above her chest. The air shifted. A strange, almost electric chill ran through the room. Not enough to hurt—but enough for everyone to feel it bite their skin. It was working. And still, no one understood how. Cyrus’s hand hovered above Isabella’s chest, his palm glowing faintly, breath steady, eyes shut in sharp focus. A strange aura spilled from his body—soft at first, like morning dew, then growing heavier, colder. The room chilled, and their breaths began to fog. Ophelia rubbed her arms, shivering. "I thought he was going to climb a mountain and bring snow..." Shelia shot her a look. "It’s not even winter, bird-brain." "I was just saying!" Ophelia hugged herself tighter. The cold intensified. It crawled across the floor like a living thing, licking at their toes, creeping up their legs. The fur rugs hardened with frost. Crystals formed on the walls, crawling slowly like frozen vines. "What the hell is he doing?" Luca muttered, backing away. "This is... insane." Kian didn’t answer. His sharp blue eyes stayed glued to Cyrus, observing every twitch of the man’s fingers, every faint flicker of frost weaving through the air. The energy didn’t feel like raw power—it felt... ancient. Controlled. Deadly. And Kian didn’t trust it. He finally confirmed there was something strange to this man, and he was going to uncover it...soon. "He’s drawing it out from inside," Kian said at last, his voice low. "It’s not just cold. He’s regulating her from within." Ophelia blinked. "How do you know that?" Kian didn’t respond. Meanwhile, Cyrus remained focused. Icy mist circled around him now, forming a barrier that buzzed faintly, like whispers in a language none of them understood. The silence in the room thickened. Then— CRACK. A shard of ice splintered across the stone floor. The sudden sound startled everyone. "Sheesh!" Shelia snapped, hopping backward. "I can’t feel my toes anymore. Are we sure we’re not the ones being frozen to death?" "She’s not even shivering," Luca pointed out. "Why isn’t she shivering?" "Because her body’s matching the cold," Kian replied, still watching Cyrus. "That’s what he wanted." "But how?" Ophelia’s voice rose, confused and curious. "How can he do all that? He has no stripes on his body. Isn’t that a sign of strength?" Cyrus didn’t look up. "You don’t need stripes to protect someone. Just trust. And time is slipping. You wanted her to wake up, right? Then stop questioning and stay quiet." The tone—sharp, commanding—shut everyone up. For a long beat, no one spoke. The temperature continued to plummet. Their bones ached from the cold, their fingers tingled. It was unbearable. Luca’s teeth chattered. Even Kian’s breath came out visibly now. "She’s going to be hungry when she wakes up," Shelia suddenly muttered, rubbing her numb hands together. "What?" Ophelia turned to her, distracted from the cold for just a second. "She told us how to cook her kind of soup yesterday," Shelia continued. "With those weird leaves and spicy red bulbs. Let’s go pick the spices. She’ll need strength when she wakes up." Ophelia lit up. "Oh yeah! I remember now! Let’s go!" Shelia nodded. "Let’s not get in the way." They exchanged a quick glance with Kian, who gave a small nod. Ophelia and Shelia carefully backed toward the entrance, arms still wrapped around themselves. Luca hesitated. "I... I’ll go with them. Just in case." "You mean to escape this walking blizzard," Shelia mumbled with a smirk. "I don’t want frostbite!" he muttered as he trailed behind the girls and slipped out the door. "Ha, a warrior that is scared of frostbite!" Shelia mocked him as he shot her a glare. Suddenly, silence fell. The room was now fully frozen. Walls shimmered with frost. The air hung heavy like a frozen fog. The fire pits had long since died out. And yet, the only creature unfazed was Glimora. The little beast sat right beside Isabella, her soft body nestled close. Frost clung to her fur, but she didn’t flinch. Her big eyes were locked on Isabella’s face, waiting. Watching. Expecting her to wake up at any moment.