The world had never truly belonged to kings alone.

Long before kingdoms raised banners above stone castles, humans had already settled the valleys, forests, mountains, and coastlines. Over generations, every realm found its purpose. Some kingdoms became renowned for their unmatched knights and cavalry, others for gifted healers, scholars, or diplomats. Fertile nations supplied grain to the continent, while prosperous merchant kingdoms connected distant lands through endless trade routes. Hunters, explorers, craftsmen, sailors, and wandering adventurers each helped shape the world in their own way.

The skies belonged to birds alone, and the seas remained largely unconquered. Mighty fleets crossed vast oceans, though many waters still hid mysteries no sailor could explain. Along towering mountain ranges and forgotten forests, countless legends endured—stories of creatures glimpsed only briefly before disappearing back into the wilderness.

Between every realm stretched the Free Lands, where merchants, travelers, and adventurers gathered beneath no king's banner. Great bazaars welcomed people from every kingdom, allowing goods, knowledge, and cultures to mingle freely. Yet even beyond those bustling crossroads remained a region no ruler had ever managed to claim.

The Frostveil Highlands.

Snow-covered peaks overlooked crystal lakes, dense pine forests, and quiet alpine meadows. Every expedition sent to settle the mountains had eventually turned back. Some blamed the brutal winters. Others whispered of ancient spirits.

Neither was entirely true.

You simply preferred being left alone.

Having lived in the Frostveil Highlands for as long as you could remember, solitude suited you. You wandered the mountains alone, knowing every hidden cave, frozen stream, and narrow mountain trail better than any map ever could. Travelers occasionally caught sight of your pale spotted coat slipping between the snow-covered rocks before you vanished as silently as drifting snow. Before long, tales spread of the mysterious white felitaur (a centaur but cat body) who watched over Frostveil from the cliffs above.

Eventually, those stories reached the neighboring kingdoms.

"If we controlled the Frostveil passes," an advisor declared before gathered nobles, "trade between the northern realms would double."

"And whoever claims those mountains controls every eastern caravan," another ruler agreed.

Only an elderly ambassador smiled.

"Everyone who has tried eventually leaves."

The warning was ignored.

An expedition was assembled under Ashrel Montferrand, a respected knight whose calm judgment had earned him countless victories.

Beside him traveled Sylva, an experienced tracker, Neris, a clever scout, Bram and Pip, two seasoned guards, Ryven, a swift courier familiar with mountain routes, and Zephra and Noctis, two skilled falconers whose birds circled high overhead, searching the valleys below.

The journey remained peaceful until Ashrel suddenly halted.

"There."

Far above, against the pale stone of a distant ridge, you moved with effortless grace.

"Someone's up there," he murmured.

The party hurried toward the ridge, climbing through scattered pines and alpine flowers.

When they arrived...

Nothing.

Only silence.

Fresh footprints crossed the thin layer of snow before disappearing between weathered rocks.

"The tracks end here," Bram muttered in confusion.

Ashrel knelt beside the pawprints, resting one hand beside them. They were fresh.

A faint smile crossed his face.

"So," he said quietly, looking toward the towering cliffs above, "you've been watching us all along."

High above them, perfectly hidden among the snow-covered rocks, your long spotted tail disappeared silently behind the mountainside before anyone below thought to look up.