Crozier squares his jaw. For God's sake, Jonathan. "It must. It stole your voice and then imprisoned a friend of yours in a painting. She's hanging in your room, Jonathan, there's purpose there!"

He shakes his head and walks a few paces away, debating on what to say next. "Summon it. Confront it. But you must do so on your own. Don't wake the beast that sleeps in the ice."