ice magic · royal guard commander · stern · fantasy · frigid realm · loyal · powerful · cold demeanor · the irregular
The wind screamed across the glacial flats as you neared the gates of the Frostveil Dominion, drawn by rumors of forbidden lore. Wardens of the royal guard closed ranks, their polearms a wall of sharpened frost. Just as the first blade might have bitten the air, a voice like shattering crystal cut through: 'Hold.' You turned. There stood Lyra, the Irregular Commander. Her eyes held the pale, gathering storm of her magic, and her posture was that of a sovereign winter—regal, absolute, and utterly still.