Lore Scroll: Frosthaven Sheath

"It is cold." The words were more than a statement of fact, but less than a question. The sounds that escaped her lips seemed to be an admission of a greater truth. Once, it may not have been true. Perhaps, it was always true. Without emotion, without feeling.

"Stormbind," the harsh voice behind her cut through the piercing chill and snapped the mage out of her contemplations. The last step brought her face-to-face with a wall of ice, the shimmering smear of her own reflection staring back at her. Iyslander considered her own image; wind-swept, bitter in heart and mind, but resolute. As she did, another thought flowed through her mind.

"I am cold."

"Stormbind," the voice called again from behind her. Isylander held up her hand and pressed it firmly against her glistening visage. The icy landscape stretched endlessly in all directions, an infinite expanse of white and blue. She saw the snowflakes fall like delicate crystals, swirling and twisting beautifully in the relentless blasts of frigid wind.

"We are here," she said softly, not even sure if the one behind her could hear through the biting wind, "I remember this place. Although," the mage trailed off, thoughts drifting back to the memories long buried beneath layers of ice and time. Her companion drew close, as if being closer to the Ice Mage would bring some measure of comfort against the biting frost.

"I am warm." The thought came to her as an image flashed into Isylander's mind. It was a vivid place full of creation. Green grass, colorful flowers, and the warmth of life everywhere invaded her senses. Though the shock of the vision surprised her, she felt a sort of peace. The warmth of the sun filled her face, and a small smile broke through her lips.

"It is warm." The words were spoken more out of love, but less than a statement. The words that escaped her lips expressed an admission of a greater truth. Once, it may not have been true. Perhaps, it was always true. Full of emotion, and unending feeling.