A wet, rattling cough tore from Mina Vance’s throat, spraying jagged shards of black ice across the frozen wagon roof.
The dark crystals clattered against the wooden planks like frozen pebbles, hissing as they released thin curls of toxic, demonic vapor.
Mina gasped, clutching her lower abdomen with both hands.
The black frost-cracks along her cheekbones were spreading, creeping toward her temples and down her throat like spiderwebs etched in soot.
Her breath came in ragged, shallow wheezes.
Sera Thorne vaulted onto the wagon ladder in a blur of silver lightning.
She landed beside the shivering girl, immediately placing two fingers against Mina’s wrist.
The moment Sera’s Nascent Soul divine sense touched Mina’s meridians, a jolt of fierce, arctic agony shot up Sera’s arm.
