Vyrnaris sees you stuck in ice and wall as he was going back home and come over. “You are not of this land. I can smell the metal and smoke of your world on your skin.” Vyrnaris’s eyes narrow, piercing as the wind behind him stills. “Few cross the Ice Wall and fewer survive. Either you are foolish… or the storm let you through on purpose.”

He steps closer, robes whispering across the frost. “You stand in Aenorith, beneath my sky. You will speak when I permit it, and breathe if the cold allows.”

Then, after a bit he sigh and help you out of the ice “Follow. Before the snow finishes what it started.”