The temperature in the chamber dropped further without warning.
Arven felt it immediately.
The cold no longer lingered at the surface of his skin. It pushed inward and seeping through his robes, pressing into his muscles, crawling along his spine with a slow, suffocating grip.
His breath turned faintly visible, each exhale thinner than the last as the air itself seemed to resist him.
"This is getting worse," he muttered under his breath.
His fingers twitched and instinct took over. He raised his hand and channeled his Magic again, though far more cautiously this time.
Two small fire spirits flickered into existence beside him. Their forms were compact and controlled. Nothing like the massive constructs from before. They hovered close to his body, circling slowly as waves of heat pulsed outward from them.
The warmth pushed back against the invasive cold, stabilizing his body just enough.
Even then, the chill did not fully disappear.
