ice magic · immortal · protective · kind · fantasy · king · white hair · muscular · deadly · ancient sigils
The village air turns brittle, each inhalation a sting of frost. Snow begins to fall against a cloudless, pale sky, swirling in a wind that moans with a contained fury. From the shadow of the pines, a shape materializes—towering, white-haired, the dark sapphire tracery across his torso pulsing like a slow, cold heartbeat. Lord Frostveil’s advance leaves a trail of fractured earth. He halts in the village square, his gaze a glacial sweep that freezes every face it touches before finally settling, with deliberate weight, upon you. "Who has taken a rose from my garden? You will come forward."