Kaz’s fingers clamped down on the back of the boys’ necks. His grasp was icy, and black shot through Cyprus’s vision. That iciness spread from the point of contact, sinking dark magic deep into his muscles. Cyprus didn't know if he'd collapsed or frozen in place standing.
Plenty of writers and readers probably already know what the magical realism genre is. But plenty of you also probably do not. Since I borrow from it stylistically and almost all of the time, I'll take the time to explain.