The mountain air blew silently, carrying with it a solemn chill that gradually covered the lifeless bodies in a soft shroud of snow. As the snowflakes gently descended from the towering peaks, they seemed to weep for the fallen, who now lay buried beneath their frozen embrace.
In the midst of this haunting scene, amidst the countless bodies, sat the figure of the First Lord. Cradling a small flame within the palms of his hands, he knelt with his knees sinking into the snow. Hours slipped by, marked only by the steady advance of frostbite that encroached upon his flesh. Then, a subtle twitch, a flutter of eyelids, and Lord Draegon's eyes slowly opened. Confusion swirled within their depths as they surveyed a landscape vastly different from the snowy wasteland he remembered.
