Chapter 922 No Need


    Cold.


    The kind of cold that seeped into the bones, wing past flesh and skin as though it had been waiting for an invitation.


    It was more than physical; it was a chill that froze thoughts, paralyzed instincts, and made even the boldest creatures forget how to breathe.


    This wasn''t natural.


    It wasn''t of this world.


    The wind, once dancing freely through the forest, had vanished. The forest had be a graveyard of sound, a stillness soplete it felt as though the world itself had forgotten how to move.


    Even the ground seemed to lose its warmth, as though life itself was retreating under Yorowin''s suffocating bloodlust, leaving behind a frozen, metallic void.


    The metallic scent of blood grew heavier, more oppressive, as if the bloodlust itself had condensed into droplets, hanging in the air, waiting to drown anyone foolish enough to inhale.


    The world fell silent.


    And yet, despite the overwhelming coldness, despite the bloodlust that threatened to swallow everything in its path, it did nothing.


    Absolutely nothing to shake Atticus.


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