The Frozen Palace

We moved forward, deeper into the palace's frozen corridors. The silence was deafening, save for the distant sound of ice shifting, echoing through the cavernous halls.

Then, the path opened into a vast chamber.

A throne room.

Massive pillars of ice lined the circular space, stretching endlessly into the darkness above. The floor was polished frozen crystal, so smooth that it reflected our forms like a mirror.

And at the very end, elevated upon a throne sculpted from the purest ice, was a figure.

But it was not Frostfang.

A lone attendant, clad in flowing robes woven from frozen mist, stood in front of the throne. Their face was obscured by a hood of frost, but their presence radiated undeniable power.

They spoke, their voice like the whisper of a winter wind.

"You who walk unbidden into the domain of the Frozen Sovereign… state your purpose."

Fafnir glanced at me, but I stepped forward, meeting the attendant's unseen gaze.