Ash held firm, his body trembling with the immense strain, but his will unyielding. He was pushing against a primal force, battling for the very definition of cosmic balance.
The Frost flowed, cold meeting chaotic heat, not to extinguish, but to temper, to refine, to bring into harmony. The struggle was immense, internal and external, a silent war waged at the heart of reality.
The void around them writhed. Glimpses of worlds flashed by with increasing speed, some swallowed by shadow, others bursting into incandescent light.
Maya staggered, fighting against the disorienting rush of images, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and wonder. Jagu let out a low, distressed whine, his stone hide vibrating as if about to crack.
This was beyond their comprehension, a fundamental struggle between elemental forces.
Ash, however, remained rooted. Sweat, cold and pure as melted ice, beaded on his brow.
