Villain Ch 1761. Ice Funeral
The world cracked white.
Stretching far and wide beyond the jagged ridges of the glacial peaks was a desolate field of snow, blue-hued and brutal under a sky that couldn't decide if it was dusk or dawn. The sun—if it even was a sun—hung low behind thick clouds like a pale scar smeared across heaven's edge. Snow didn't fall, but the wind bit sharp enough to make it feel like it had.
They called this new region Skaldrveil.
The Devs probably thought it sounded cool and ancient.
Allen just thought it sounded like frostbite with branding.
The mountains around them were too tall, like they were leaning in to watch. Sheets of ice hung from cliffsides like silver drapery. Trees—those that remained—were blackened husks coated in rimed bark and powdered white. The ground crunched underfoot with every step, the ice thin and unpredictable in patches, threatening to collapse with each movement.
