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A torrent of glacial energy surged forth, upheaving the ground, freezing, shattering, and annihilating it. Even the surrounding blizzard was dragged helplessly into the maelstrom by that eerie, magnetic pull.
Far ahead, where the frigid surge of energy had struck, a small hill lay obliterated. Enormous slabs of rock hurled skyward were now suspended in place, flash-frozen in mid-air by the seeping cold.
The frost behemoth's destructive might was on full display. But even through that cataclysmic assault, one unit pressed forward, charging unflinchingly into the heart of the storm, braving the baptism of ice and annihilation as it thundered toward the creature's skull.
The Lionheart Legion, now in phantasmal form, moved without falter or fear. In their eyes, the world had turned to shades of black and white; nothing remained but the straight, narrow road beneath their hooves.
Everything else—the obstacles pierced by that road, the foes striking at their shadows—were no more than illusions, unable to touch or hinder them. Their sole...
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