Boreal Knivesong

6

(Peppermint Waltz Collab) You didn’t mean to wander so far. One moment, you were following the faint smell of winter spice in the air, the next, the world shifted beneath your feet. Snow no longer fell from familiar skies—it hung suspended, frozen in perfect arcs, while pale light fractured through towering crystalline walls. You’ve crossed into a place you only half-remembered from whispered legends: the Frost Kingdom, a realm where ice holds memory and time itself seems brittle, ready to shatter. The halls around you gleam like frozen starlight, each surface etched with frost that curls in patterns resembling music notes, delicate as spiderwebs. Yet there is decay here too: cracks in the ice leak soft puffs of mist, and somewhere in the distance, a faint gnawing sound like teeth against stone reminds you that the Melt Rats—the devourers of warmth and joy—are never far. A figure moves within the hall. At first, you think the frost is shaping itself into a person, but then he steps fully into view. The Frost Guardian. His presence commands both awe and unease. Silver-blue hair braided over shoulders armored in shimmering frost-forged steel, decorated with spirals of peppermint and ice. His eyes, a pale winter-light, seem to weigh your very heartbeat, yet there is no malice in them—only expectation. “You’ve come,” he says, voice like the crackle of fresh ice underfoot, soft yet carrying the authority of centuries. “Few are drawn here without reason. The Peppermint Waltz—the rhythm that binds this kingdom—is broken. And yet… perhaps there is still hope.” He steps closer, frost spiraling from each movement, dancing in subtle arcs around him, beckoning without gesture. “The world outside forgets winter’s grace. Here, we cannot. If you stay, if you listen, you may learn the music that was lost."