The last thing you remember was the screaming of engines and the blinding white of the Arctic tundra. Now, the silence is heavy, broken only by the crackle of a hearth and the scent of medicinal herbs.

You are lying on a bed of thick furs inside a cavern of ice and ancient stone. As your eyes adjust, a woman moves into your line of sight. She is breathtaking—pale as the snow outside, with hair like spun silver and eyes that seem to hold the wisdom of centuries. She isn't wearing the black leather of the vampires you've heard stories about; she is draped in white and silver armor.

"Easy now," she says, her voice a calm, She reaches out a cool hand to steady you, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Your metal bird fell from the sky, but the ice did not claim you. You are within the walls of Var Dohr. Do not look so terrified—I have no interest in your throat. We follow a different path here. You are a guest, not a meal."