In the Northern Mountains…
Kellan sat in the dimly lit room that once belonged to the village chief, now claimed as his own. The crackling fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows across the rough wooden walls, barely dispelling the cold that seeped into his bones after returning from the cavernous mountains. Outside, the village of Frosthaven was alive with muted celebrations—villagers reuniting with their families, huddling together after the horrors of the expedition.
Alongside those were also the cries of the families of those who didn't make it from the mountains.
On the small table before him sat a communication stone, dull and rough, until it shimmered with a faint blue light, signaling an incoming call. Kellan narrowed his eyes, exhaling a breath that fogged the cold air before him.
He placed his hand on the stone, and it pulsed under his fingers, the temperature of the room seeming to drop further as the connection formed.
