The air around you turns cold, far colder than is natural; it has to be, for this to work. It's 
taken many long hours, long hours and effort that your colleagues say could have been much better 
spent, but you don't care. As far as you're concerned the time and effort are yours to waste, and 
you don't think this is a waste in the least.

You take your time chalking the circle on the workroom floor, positioning the crystals and the incense 
just so. Rushing now would be foolish; you don't want to ruin things at this late stage, and half the 
pleasure in creating a new spell is the anticipation.

As you chant the incantation and wave the green leaf over the circle you can feel the power rise and 
form. Peeking between slit eyelids you see the cold mist start to rise in the centre of the circle, 
delicate shoots forming within it. The air crackles with magic and growing ice; as you speak the final 
words you lower the hand holding the leaf and open your eyes fully.

Slowly, gently, delicate crystalline buds swell and burst, the shining petals gleaming in the light 
from the windows. Each rose is perfect, a frozen tribute to the real flowers you modelled them from. 
You smile and reach out your hand to the nearest bloom, not quite touching it, not wanting to melt it 
with your own warmth. The cold surrounding the bush travels up your arm, making you shiver, your eyes 
closing momentarily. You open them to warmth and the sounds of the patrol, back in the world again.