The snow fell thickly, like a silent blanket covering the world. The wind whistled through the twisted trees, carrying the ice like sharp blades. The air was cold, so cold that it seemed to cut to the soul, and every step Aurora took sank into the snow, which now reached her knees. In the center of the clearing, where nature seemed to bow in respect, Isolde's body rested on a funeral pyre made of black branches and silver moss.

The world was silent. Only the occasional crunch of the trees under the weight of the ice interrupted the sepulchral silence. Isolde's face, still beautiful even in death, was enveloped in an almost cruel calm. Her eyes were closed, but Aurora could feel the weight of her presence, as if her mentor was still watching her every move.

Aurora knelt before the pyre, her trembling hands holding a torch whose fire pulsed in shades of deep blue. The flame danced, indifferent to the wind, as if it held ancient secrets within itself. She hesitated for a moment, looking at Isolde for the last time. The dead woman's skin reflected the light of the flame, almost translucent, marked with runes that now glowed dimly, like stars about to go out.

When touching the fire at the base of the pyre, something woke up. A burst of ethereal blue light broke through the darkness, casting shadows that danced like specters around the clearing. The runes on Isolde's body reignited in a last gasp of power. Aurora felt the impact like silent thunder, something that shook her heart and made her breath hitch.

Then, she heard the voice.

It was no ordinary voice. It was an echo, a whisper wrapped in a thousand layers of mystery. It came not from without, but from within, resonating in his mind like a harp string being plucked.

— Be careful with the price of sapphires. — The voice was Isolde's, but it wasn't either. It was older, deeper, as if it spoke on behalf of something much bigger than itself. — Don't trust the easy paths, Aurora. The map is yours, but fate is never kind.

Aurora tried to respond, but her throat felt dry, and the air around her seemed to have become heavier. A searing pain shot through his mind as a blue light exploded before his eyes. She could see nothing but a white glow, and then, as if time had been ripped off its axis, all was silent again.

When her opened his eyes, the pyre was reduced to ashes. The snow, now dyed gray and blue, continued to fall relentlessly. Amidst the ash, an object glowed—a map, marked with runes that pulsed with the same ethereal blue light she had seen before. Aurora reached out her hand carefully, feeling the pulsing heat of the map through her leather gloves. The runes were ancient, as if they had been written at the beginning of the world, and their meanings were beyond any immediate understanding. However, one thing was clear: this was not just a map. It was a warning, a promise and a curse.

Aurora stood up, the map clutched in her hands, and looked around. The clearing now seemed empty, devoid of Isolde's presence, but something in the atmosphere had changed. The wind that used to whistle now seemed to murmur, bringing with it fragments of forgotten words. The falling snow seemed heavier, as if it carried the weight of an inescapable destiny.

— Price of sapphires… — Aurora muttered to herself, her eyes fixed on the hazy horizon.

The journey had begun, and every fiber of her being knew she would never be the same.