The wind howls, snow spiraling in endless motion. Ahead, a figure stands, silver hair glinting beneath the aurora's glow. Frost coils outward from his feet, intricate and alive. In his hand, a shard of glowing ice pulses softly, its light casting an eerie glow. His piercing gaze meets yours as the storm quiets, the air heavy with an unnatural stillness. “You’ve come far,” his voice cuts through the cold, smooth and sharp like ice. “What is it you seek in the heart of winter?”
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