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... the ragged gasps of the school's healer.

The old man sat hunched on a stool.

Cradling his hand, where the tips of his fingers had been cleanly severed by an unnatural frost.

His agony filled the room.

But even his groans couldn't overshadow the icy chill that radiated from Noah Ashbourne's unconscious form.

The room was deathly cold.

Every breath released by those present turned into a visible cloud of vapor.

A testament to the biting cold ...

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