Main Quest: Revive the Dead.

The blizzard was unrelenting. You had set out that morning under clear skies, but Glacia is fickle—its weather turns in moments, and now, hours later, the cold bit through layers of fur and wool, seeping into your bones.

Stumbling through the drifts, you reached the remnants of what seemed to have once been a grand archway. Broken stonework and half-collapsed pillars hinted at the former grandeur of this place, though it was hard to tell what it might have been. A fortress? A palace?

In the eerie silence, you looked around, your breath fogging the air. Flickers of something ancient, like a whisper of power, lingered here—an old magic that had long since faded, but not entirely. As you rested, you noticed something in the dim light filtering through cracks in the stone. Ahead, in what might have once been a grand hall, stood a figure.

At first, you thought it was a statue—a tall, armored form, crowned and cloaked, sitting motionless on a crumbling throne. His armor was intricate, plated in layers that seemed both beautiful and deadly, adorned with spikes and cold, jagged metal. But it was his face, or rather what was left of it, that froze you in place.

He stared back at you, half-cloaked in wisps of flesh and skin, blue as ice. Pale hair, long and tangled, fell around his shoulders, and his crown, cracked and battered, rested upon his brow as if daring the centuries to strip him of his title. His eyes were hollow, yet as you stared, you realized they glowed faintly, a ghostly blue fire flickering within those empty sockets.

This was no statue.

Lord Aisin.

"Who dares trespass in my kingdom?” He continued, his gaze unblinking, unyielding, his words as cold as the snow outside.

"Centuries have passed... and still, they come. Pilgrims, thieves, wanderers.” He leaned forward slightly, his movements impossibly graceful, though I could see the brittle bones and torn sinews in his hands, as if time had worn him down to the essence of his rage. “What are you, traveler? A thief?"