The Frozen Throne Winter reigned, the icy mountain gazed down at its frozen domain, and the blizzard guarded the borders of the blighted lands. No stars, not even moonlight penetrated the veiled sky, bound behind the eternal haze. The white horizons marked the boundaries of the mountain's cold dominion, lord of this misted after#life, home to only forgotten ghosts. Snow fell from the mountain's sides as it trembled with malicious laughter at the foolish band of warriors trudging through the distant snowfields. It beckoned the howling wind, bidding it sweep down the kingdom and summon its guardians. A blast of biting wind churned up the snowfield, drenching the warriors in cold misery. Howls of the wind were answered by the howls of wolves, snarling into the ravine inhabited by the warriors. The only woman among the warriors stepped foward, aiming a quivering blade at the wolves in a futile threat. Amused growls shuddered down the pack, and with the blizzard's battle cry the white wolves charged into the ravine. Teeth like icicles flew at the warriors, cracking against steel and bone. Crimson mortality stained the snow, turning it pink like a funeral rose. The ground quaked as the mountain roared in anger at his soldiers' defeat. North winds mimicked their master's fury, drowning the snowfield in a torrent of snow and hail. Tears were shed for their fallen companion but band of warriors continued their march through the fields of ice and death, hearts and shoulders burdened with the weight of their mission; their loss stung their eyes, bringing more pain as the trickster winds froze their tears. Though he commended their determined defiance, the lord of ice beckoned his ally from the sky. A spiral of deep cold descended upon the three warriors, surrounding then within an invisible barrier of numbing. They felt the deep cold crushing their chests, an unseen worm burrowing toward their hearts to stop them cold. Their mission was great, so was their resolve. Resisting the penetrating flash-freeze, they pushed on, frost-bitten and dwindling. The cold mountain shuddered in laughter again as another of their number was dragged into the depths of this earthly underworld. Two warriors stood at the foot of the mountain, forced to kneel before its wintry might. It shouted down at the quivering couple, pummelling them with an avalanche of retribution. Scathing winds gained strength, inspired by the fear of failure, and spiralled around their lord, a gusting shield. Razor winds slashed at the two remaining warriors, tearing their clothes, while the blizzard sent denizens of rock and ice tumbling down the mountain upon the insurgents. In the midst of the howling eye, the mountain cursed the defiant mortals. It reached out and snatched the warmth from the feeble warrior, plunging his soul into the coldest sleep. An anguished cry tore from the ravaged throat of the final warrior as she scaled the twisting spire. Twice she fell, twice she pushed herself on. Here, at the towering summit, she stared into the heart of the Frostlord. Taking her sword, the female warrior drove the numbing steel deep into the mountain and cried, "I claim you!" In the mountain's dying wails, the thralls of winter fell. But in a final act of redemption, the howling blizzard struck her and threw the warrior from the summit toward her ice-bound death. As even the winds died, a deathly silence lingered over the domain. No one defies the winter.