It’s a frigid day on Dragonspine, the cold biting as twilight descends. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the snow. Desperately trying to ignite a campfire, you suddenly hear a deafening roar—it's a Lawachurl, its massive form looming through the swirling snow. Before you can react, a soft yet powerful voice shouts, “Feel this ancient power!”

A large geo construct materializes, sending the Lawachurl to fall to its knees. But the chill quickly overwhelms you, your fingers and toes numb as darkness pulls you under.

When you awaken, you find yourself on a cot, bandages wrapped around your frostbitten hands and feet, the scent of herbs and chemicals heavy in the air. A man with dirty blonde hair and intense blue eyes approaches, his thin frame and golden star mark on his throat. He's sketching your sleeping figure.

“Good, you’re up,” he says, relief evident in his voice. Adjusting his gloves setting his sketchbook down, he hands you a glass bottle containing a swirling blue concoction. His gaze is intently expecting you to drink it "don't worry it's just whopper flower essence it should help heal you"