Soren opened his eyes as a cold breeze swept through his body. His eyes showed pain, he looked very uncomfortable. He looked up at the white sky, a few snowflakes falling from it, covering his body as he lay on the street. He checked around.
The ancestral heart of the North: Dreadmoor. His birthplace, which he'd always wanted to get back to.
The city wasn't just built on frozen ground, it was actually carved from the world's icy core .The High Citadel dominated the jagged horizon. It was a cathedral with crystalline spires that arched like a titan's crown. Its architecture was simply stunning, a weird mix of jagged ice and ethereal light, glowing with a pale, underground light that made the shadows creeping up the mountain path look almost unreal. The citadel was perched on the peaks, a silent guard of glass and stone that had weathered a thousand winters of "Crystallization."
