The stairs down from the bedroom led straight into this freezing, total silence. It was like the entire manor had stopped breathing.
The spiraling stone staircase seemed to stretch on forever, the air growing noticeably denser and colder with every step Percival, Lewis, and Mercius took.
Lewis almost started to miss the more difficult but warmer pink-hued compulsion back in the Final Tear.
He glanced at Percival, seeing that he was barely feeling the cold. It had to be that special Aspect in his armor he had been talking about.
Lewis could see the frost tracing the edges of the heavy Swordcase strapped to Percival's back. "Why is it so cold?" he muttered.
"Demons are punished in hell for a reason," Percival said. "They love the cold."
Lewis paused for a while, then gulped. "You just had to say it like that."
