The airlock to Floor Three opened with a hiss.
Cold air poured over the crusaders. Sweat froze on their robes. Their breath turned white.
Guang Ming raised a wall of solar fire. “Hold the line. The frozen hell will not take us.”
Ling Yue walked past him with wonder on her face. Her nine frost swords sang in the cold. Overhead, copper pipes carried coolant through a closed loop.
“This is not a curse,” she said. “It is a cooling plant. A large, very clever cooling plant.”
She reached toward a bare pipe.
Austin’s voice came from the catwalk. “Do not touch that.”
She stopped.
