The Frostspire Mountains loomed ahead, their jagged peaks cloaked in endless snowstorms. The biting cold tested the resolve of the trio as they began their ascent. Garik's rugged experience helped them find shelter in hidden caves, while Lyra's sharp instincts ensured they avoided the predators that roamed the icy wasteland.
As they climbed, they noticed signs of an ancient war. Crumbled towers jutted out from the snow, and broken weapons lay frozen beneath layers of ice. The remnants of the Radiant Order's last stand against the Shadow King served as a haunting reminder of the stakes they faced.
One evening, as they huddled in a cave for warmth, Garik shared a tale. "The Frostspire wasn't always a graveyard," he said, staring into the flickering fire. "The Frostborn were once allies of the Radiant Order. Their magic, drawn from the cold itself, was unmatched. But when the Shadow King rose, their leader—Queen Yvanna—refused to choose a side. She sealed their tribe within the mountains, leaving the rest of the world to its fate."
"Do you think they're still here?" Lyra asked.
Garik shrugged. "If they are, they won't be eager to help outsiders."
Caelum frowned. "We'll have to convince them. If the shard is here, we can't leave without it."