Their next destination was the opposite end of the world.
They sailed north for weeks, leaving behind green waters and sunny skies, moving into grey seas, then into waters choked with floating ice. Here, the ocean was changing rapidly. Where once massive sheets of ice had blocked all passage, now open channels wound through the landscape, revealing dark waters that had been hidden for millennia.
But the change brought fear. As the ice retreated, the people of the Far North—the Frostborn clans—felt their identity, their safety, and their history melting away.
Mira and Orin arrived at the Great Ice Hold, a fortress carved entirely from ancient, compressed ice that shone like blue crystal. Here, they met EIRA FROSTVEIN, the Shield-Maiden and High Historian of the North.
Eira was thirty-five, tall and imposing, clad in armor forged from steel and enchanted ice that never melted. Her hair was the color of snow, and her eyes were pale grey, sharp and unyielding as a winter storm. She stood before a massive map of the northern coasts, marking the places where ice had vanished.
"You come from the warm lands to tell us our ice is dying?" Eira asked, her tone cold and defensive.
"We have heard it before. The 'progress' of the south coming to melt our world away."
"We come to tell you that your ice is melting because the world is sick," Mira replied calmly, refusing to be intimidated. "And soon, it will not just melt. It will snap freeze so hard nothing will ever grow again. We are not here to take your ice, Eira. We are here to help you protect it."
Eira studied Mira for a long moment, then looked at Orin, who stood silently, his gaze fixed on the floor as if listening to something far below.
"The ancient songs speak of this time," Eira admitted, her voice softening slightly. "They say: When the fire of the deep burns too hot, the gates of the North must hold fast, or the breath of the world will stop. I thought it was just poetry. But lately… I have felt the ground shake beneath the glaciers. There is something inside the ice, something waking up because the ice is no longer heavy enough to hold it down."
"What is it?" Orin asked, speaking up.
"The Warden of the Core," Eira said, a shadow crossing her face. "A guardian built at the dawn of time to regulate the planet's heat. But it was given strict orders: If the world becomes too dangerous, too chaotic… freeze it solid and start over."
Mira felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
"That is exactly what the magic imbalance is telling it to do," she realized. "It thinks the world is out of control. It thinks it must reset everything."
Eira slammed her fist onto the table. "Then we must reach it first! I have trained my whole life to endure the cold and the silence. I know the paths beneath the glaciers. I will join you. We go to the Glacier of Forgotten Time. If the Warden is awake, we must make it listen."