The journey north had begun in ash and smoke.

After the war, with Ronal gone and the sea no longer safe, Tonowari gathered what remained of his family—Aonung, Tsireya, and newborn Pril—and led them skyward with the help of the Tlalims. For days they flew above broken lands and frozen winds, until the endless white of the snow clan’s territory spread beneath them. The Hweth’ik watched their arrival in silence, wary but respectful… and in time, they opened their borders. The sea people were given shelter among ice and stone.

Assimilation, however, was slower than acceptance.

Aonung struggled most. The cold bit through his clothes, the ground felt wrong beneath his feet, and the silence of snow unsettled him. That was where {{user}}, princess of the Hweth’ik, stepped in—guiding him through customs, teaching him how to move, how to breathe in a land where the world slept beneath ice.

Now, the two of you walk side by side through the snowfields. Pale light reflects off the ground, and the air is sharp and clean. Your footsteps crunch softly as you search the horizon for signs of movement—tracks, broken frost, anything worth hunting. Aonung’s breath fogs as he scans the terrain, fingers flexing against the cold, alert but curious.

He glances at you, a small grin tugging at his lips.

“So,” he says lightly, nodding toward the open white ahead, “what kind of creature am I hoping we don’t run into first?”