In the cold, blizzarding winds, a tribe of nomads gathered in the shadow of an ancient ice fortress, its dark blue walls carved from the frozen bones of Kyrovia itself. Within its depths, a trial was beginning.
"You were never meant to be here, Seraphine."
The words echoed through the vast chamber, each syllable a knife that cut through the howling wind. Inside a frozen yurt, a fire crackled weakly, its flames barely holding back the relentless cold that seeped through the thick furs. Seraphine Mal'kai sat across from Veyra, the only person she had ever trusted, the only one who didn't look at her as if she were a monster.
Outside, the wind carried the distant cries of frost-hounds patrolling the borders of the Stormcaller Tribe. Beyond those borders lay the unknown vast tundras, shifting glaciers, and the endless horrors that roamed the ice. Yet that was the only place left for her to go.
"You have to leave. They won't let you stay here alive. You must escape."
Veyra's voice was urgent, but there was sorrow in her eyes. Behind her, two of her trusted tribesmen stood, their hands hovering near their weapons not to threaten Seraphine, but to protect her for as long as they could.
Seraphine wanted to argue, to tell them she had a choice, that she could change their minds. But she knew the truth.
This had been coming for a long time.
Seraphine had always been different...faster, sharper, stronger. When she was a child, the elders had called it a blessing. But the warriors whispered otherwise. By fifteen, she could outmatch any man in the tribe. By seventeen, she had bested the Huntmaster in combat.
That was when the fear began.
"She is not like us."
"Her mother was an exile."
"She doesn't fight like a Stormcaller… she fights like something else."
The elders cloaked their words in wisdom, speaking of curses and omens. The warriors, however, spoke only of blood and survival. And in their eyes, she had already become something unnatural. Something that did not belong.
Her mother had once told her, before the tribe burned her at the pyre for speaking too freely, *Stormcallers do not fear the storm. They fear what waits beyond it.*
"Seraphine," Veyra pressed, stepping forward. "They will hunt you. You need to leave now."
Seraphine clenched her fists. Her blood ran hot, defiant even against the encroaching cold. "I will not run like a coward."
Veyra's hands trembled as she reached into her satchel. "I stole these from the Huntmaster's tent," she said, pulling out a dagger carved from dragonbone and a bundle of seal-fur rations. "Take them and run before the sun rises."
Seraphine hesitated. To leave was to accept exile. To leave was to abandon everything she had ever known. She lifted her gaze to Veyra's, searching for any other answer, but there was none. Only the brutal truth.
Her fate was sealed long before this night.
She took the dagger, its weight a promise in her palm. Then, without another word, she turned and stepped into the storm.
The blizzard swallowed her whole.
The wind cut through her like knives, the cold creeping into her bones. The ice beneath her feet groaned and shifted, as if rejecting her very presence.
For hours, she moved through the wasteland, her breath turning to ice in the air. Her limbs ached, but she pressed forward, deeper into the unknown. The tundra stretched endlessly, a vast white abyss. Shadows lurked in the periphery, eyes watching from beneath the ice.
Then the ground cracked beneath her.
A thunderous roar split the silence as the glacier gave way, and she plummeted into darkness.
For a moment, there was nothing. Only the cold embrace of the abyss. Then, she hit something, hard ice, slick and ancient. Her breath caught in her throat. No longer in the storm, she had fallen into something older. Deeper. Forgotten.
A cavern stretched before her, its walls lined with jagged ice, reflecting an eerie blue glow from something further in. The air was thick, charged with something primal, something ancient.
She pushed herself up, wincing. Blood dripped from a gash on her arm, but the pain was distant. Her eyes fixed on the monolithic structure in the center of the cavern.
It was no natural formation.
Towering and covered in runes that pulsed with a cold, otherworldly light, the structure seemed to hum, as if whispering to her in a voice older than time itself.
She stepped closer, drawn by an invisible force.
The runes shifted beneath her gaze, rearranging themselves in patterns she did not understand, yet somehow recognized. It was as if the knowledge had always been there, buried deep in her blood.
She reached out, fingers brushing against the surface.
A surge of energy exploded outward, freezing the air in an instant. The cavern trembled as the runes burned into her skin, their glow searing into her very essence. Her vision blurred, and suddenly, she was not in the cavern anymore.
She stood atop a frozen throne, a crown of frost resting upon her brow. Armies of ice and shadow bowed before her, their eyes gleaming with silent devotion. A name echoed through her mind.
*Mal'kai.
Not just her name. A legacy.
Seraphine gasped as the vision shattered. The cavern pulsed around her, the whispers growing louder. This was why she had been cast out. Not because she was unnatural.
Because she was something more.
The cavern, with its ancient runes and pulsating energy, was a gateway to a power she could scarcely comprehend. As she stood there, the runes continued to glow, their light casting long shadows on the icy walls. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, urging her to delve deeper into the mysteries of this place.
She took a step forward, her boots crunching on the frost-covered ground. The air was thick with an energy that made her skin tingle, and her breath came in short, visible puffs. The runes on the walls seemed to shift and change as she moved, their patterns forming symbols that she could almost understand. It was as if the very ice was alive, communicating with her in a language older than the tribe she had left behind.
As she ventured further into the cavern, the temperature dropped even more, but Seraphine found that she was no longer affected by the cold. The runes that had burned into her skin seemed to radiate a warmth that kept the freezing air at bay. She felt a strange connection to this place, as if it had been waiting for her all along.
The cavern opened up into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in the darkness above. In the center of the chamber stood a massive ice pillar, its surface smooth and reflective. Seraphine approached it cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. As she drew closer, she saw that the pillar was not just ice it was a prison.
Encased within the ice was a figure, its features blurred and distorted by the thick layers of frost. Seraphine reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold surface. The moment her skin made contact, the ice began to crack, fissures spreading out from the point of contact like spiderwebs.
The figure within stirred, its eyes snapping open to reveal a piercing blue light. Seraphine stumbled back, her breath catching in her throat. The ice shattered, and the figure stepped out, its form solidifying into that of a woman with long, flowing hair the color of snow. Her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and her presence filled the chamber with an aura of power.
"Who are you?" Seraphine asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The woman smiled, a cold, enigmatic expression that sent a shiver down Seraphine's spine. "I am Aelara, the last of the Frostweavers," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "And you, Seraphine Mal'kai, are the one I have been waiting for."
Seraphine's mind raced. The Frostweavers were a legend, a tale told to children to keep them from wandering too far into the tundra. They were said to be powerful sorceresses who could control the ice and snow, bending it to their will. But they were supposed to be extinct, wiped out in a war long forgotten.
"Why me?" Seraphine asked, her voice trembling.
Aelara stepped closer, her gaze piercing. "Because you carry the blood of the Mal'kai, a lineage of power that has lain dormant for centuries. The runes have chosen you.
Seraphine looked down at her hands, the runes glowing faintly beneath her skin. She had always felt different, but she had never imagined that it was because of something like this. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
"What do I need to do?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Aelara's smile widened. "You must learn to harness the power within you. The Frostweavers' legacy is yours to claim, but it will not be easy. The path ahead is fraught with danger, and there are those who will seek to destroy you before you can fully awaken your powers."
Seraphine nodded, determination hardening her resolve. She had been cast out by her tribe, but now she had a new purpose. She would embrace her destiny, no matter the cost.
"Teach me," she said, her voice firm.
Aelara's eyes gleamed with approval. "Very well. But know this, Seraphine Mal'kai once you step onto this path, there is no turning back. The power you seek will change you, and the world will never be the same."
Seraphine took a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs. She had already lost everything she had ever known. Now, she had nothing left to lose and everything to gain.
"I'm ready," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber.
Aelara nodded, and with a wave of her hand, the cavern began to change. The walls shimmered, and the runes glowed brighter, their light enveloping Seraphine in a cocoon of energy. She felt a surge of power coursing through her veins, the runes on her skin burning with intensity.
As the light faded, Seraphine found herself standing in a vast, frozen landscape, the sky above a swirling mass of clouds and ice. Aelara stood beside her, her presence a steady anchor in the chaos.
"This is the Frostweavers' realm," Aelara said, her voice carrying on the wind. "Here, you will learn to control the ice and snow, to bend it to your will, you wall walk the pillar of Anima. But be warned—the power you seek is not easily mastered. It will test you, push you to your limits. Only the strongest can hope to wield it."
Seraphine nodded, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She could feel the power within her, a dormant force waiting to be unleashed.
"I will not fail," she said, her voice steady.
Aelara smiled, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "Then let us begin."