The Faint Pulse of Ice

Without another word, Eldrin turned, his cloak swaying as he led us deeper into the guild. We followed in silence, feeling the weight of the murmurs behind us as adventurers whispered among themselves. The name Frostfang had stirred something—a mixture of fear, awe, and doubt.

Through a hidden passageway, we descended a spiral staircase carved into stone, leading into a secluded archive beneath the guild. Rows upon rows of ancient tomes, scrolls, and faded maps lined the walls, illuminated only by dim, floating orbs of light.

Eldrin stopped at a dust-covered table, brushing off old parchment before pulling out a map far older than the others.

He spread it before us. The Veil of Everfrost was marked far north—beyond Titan's Crest, past any kingdom's reach, shrouded in an icy terrain.

"This," Eldrin said, tapping the location, "is where you'll find the Veil. But don't expect a warm welcome."