[ASTRO'S POV]
The correction facility was ice and silver.
Not marble like the rest of the Sanctuary.
Something colder.
Harsher.
More brutal.
The walls were translucent ice—not frozen water but crystallized divine magic, blue-white and gleaming, allowing distorted shadows to move behind them like watching predators. The floor was silver metal, polished mirror-bright, reflecting everything twice: once from below, once from the ice walls, creating disorienting double-images that made it hard to track reality. Temperature was punishing—well below freezing, cold enough that each breath burned lungs, frost forming on fur, joints stiffening with chill. The air tasted metallic and sharp, like licking frozen steel, each inhale painful.
The enforcers had dragged me here after tampering with Haven's mask.
Thrown me into a cell.
Left me alone with the draining.
It was worse here.
Accelerated.
The High Judge mask burning constantly.
Forcing compliance.
Erasing resistance.
