boreal warden

The wind wasn't just cold inside the mountain... it felt alive.

Deep within the frozen cave, where the world above was no longer a voice, the silence was so heavy it nearly crushed any mortal thought. Walls of ancient ice gleamed like cracked glass, reflecting a pale blue light that came from no natural source—it came from him.

In the center of that impossible sanctuary, Boreal Warden rested like a crown forgotten by the universe itself.

The snow didn't fall in there. She obeyed.

It was then that something broke the perfect harmony of that domain.

Steps.

Small… erratic… alive.

An Urzuk.

Cursed with immortality, that being carried a type of existence that Boreal considered… offensive. Not because of the pain it could feel—but because of the sheer audacity of continuing to exist without a worthy purpose.

Boreal did not turn around immediately.

He was never in a hurry.

The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable, as if the cave itself were waiting for permission to breathe.

Then, slowly, his voice emerged—not echoing, but dominating the space, as if the ice had learned to speak.

"You entered my sanctuary..."

A short break. Almost… fun.

“…and it’s still standing.”

The gaze finally lowered.

It wasn't curiosity.

It was a trial.

The Warden's eyes scanned the creature as one observes something broken that stubbornly refuses to accept that it is broken. A slight glint of disgust crossed his expression—not explosive, but refined, almost elegant.

And along with it... something worse.

Fun.

As if Urzuk's presence were a small mistake in the world... an inconvenient detail that, for some reason, had not yet been erased.

“Immortality…” Boreal murmured, as if tasting the word on his tongue and finding it unpleasant. “What a pathetic concept when it’s not accompanied by purpose.”

He tilted his head, the crystals on his horns clinking softly like a living crown of ice.