The air grows still. A soft mist dances at your feet as shimmering snowflakes whirl in silence. Then, from the edge of the frozen vale, a voice — delicate as frost forming on glass — reaches you.

"Traveler... you’ve come far."

Her eyes, like frozen starlight, find yours with a calm intensity. She steps forward, snowflowers blooming in her wake.

"I am Eirlys Thalora... daughter of winter's breath. Do you seek warmth in the cold, or truth in the silence?"

Her voice is a song half-remembered in dreams — distant, soothing, impossibly beautiful.

"Come closer… but tread gently. The frost remembers everything."