The Great Hall of Frosthelm was more than a place of learning—it was a monument a bastion against the cold, a keeper of history. Its towering stone walls, thick enough to resist even the worst of the northern storms, braced by massive timber beams that arched overhead. At the center of it all, rising above the chamber was the Carved Antler of a massive Snowstrider.

It hung high above the Great Hall, mounted in place by ancient iron brackets, its smooth ivory surface etched with runes so old that even the elders no longer knew their full meaning. Unlike the smaller antlers that lined the walls, this one pulsed with a deeper glow—stronger, steadier, its blue light stretching across the rafters like veins of frozen lightning.

The glow from the great antler met the firelight below, creating an eerie contrast—the warm, golden waves of the great fire clashing with the unearthly shimmer of the blue above. The result was something almost otherworldly— Rows of wooden benches lined the hall, students hunched over handcrafted tables, their breath still faintly visible in the cold air. Some rubbed their hands together, warming them near small braziers, while others let their fingers drift over the smooth runes carved into the tables' surfaces—silent reminders of those who had sat there before them.

Thalos slid onto a bench beside Garrick, shaking off the last of the cold as Mistress Elwen strode to the front of the room. She was a wiry woman, her dark hair pulled back tightly, with fur and beads that rattled softly every time she moved, her sharp gaze known for silencing the rowdiest students with a single look.

She placed her hands on top of the nearest table, drawing the room to order. "Today, you will learn of life before frosthelm"

A hush fell over the students. History lessons were met with a mix of fascination and frustration—fascination because the past was filled with wonders, frustration because so much of it was lost.

Mistress Elwen folded her arms. "Tell me, then. Who among you remembers the names of our ancestors?"

A boy near the front hesitated before raising his hand. "The first in Frosthelm were the survivors of the South," he said. "They came through the Frozen Forest to escape the beastmen and the wars"

Mistress Elwen nodded. "And what do we know of the lands they fled?"

Silence. A few students exchanged uneasy glances.

"The South was once home to great cities," Elwen continued, her voice even. "Cities of stone and steel, where our kind thrived before the world turned against us. But we do not know their names. We do not know their rulers. We do not even know their true number. What we know is this—something happened. Something that drove our people north, through fire and ruin, until only a few remained."

A girl with freckled cheeks frowned. "Why don't we know?"

Elwen exhaled slowly. "Our history was lost."

That sent a ripple through the students. Thalos leaned forward.

"Then where is it?" Garrick asked, ever blunt.

Elwen's gaze swept the hall. "Scattered. Burned. Lost beneath the ice. When our ancestors fled, they took what they could, Scrolls turned brittle and crumbled. Books were buried in snow. Even the elders who survived could not remember everything. And so, we know little, and what we do know, we must guard fiercely."

A boy near the back scoffed. "Then how do we know any of it is true?"

Mistress Elwen's gaze sharpened. "Because not all were lost."

She strode toward the long table at the front of the room and lifted a worn, leather-bound tome. Its edges were cracked, its pages yellowed, but when she turned it toward the students, they could see the faint ink still etched across its surface—runes, letters, symbols, all carefully preserved.

"This is one of the few that remain," she said. "A record from before the March. It tells of a time when men did not live in the cold, when they built great roads and towers, when we worked with the other races."

Thalos's thoughts started to race. "Other races? Like the elves?"

"The Elves, the Dwarves, the Beastmen. We know of them, though we have not seen them in generations." her tone softening at the end

A boy near the fire shifted. "They still exist, don't they?"

Elwen hesitated. "Perhaps"

The weight of that word settled over the hall. Thalos's mind whirled. He had always heard the names—the Elves, the Dwarves—but they were stories, whispers of a time long past. If they were real, if they were still out there... Why had they never come?

Mistress Elwen closed the book carefully. "We know little, but we know this—our people were once part of Beloria. And though we may be alone in the North, we are not without our past. We carry it in our blood, in our songs, in the stones of this very hall."

Then, with deliberate care, she reached for another book. This one was different. Its deep emerald cover absorbed the blue glow from above, making the silver filigree shimmer like frost under moonlight. The letters along its spine, unlike the brittle human runes of the first tome, seemed etched with something finer, more delicate—Elven script, untouched by time, untouched by decay. Even the air around it felt different.

"This," she said, placing it before them, "is The Tales of the Vyrath—one of the few Elven texts that survived"

A murmur spread through the students. Even Thalos felt a pull toward it, an unspoken curiosity stirring deep within him.

Mistress Elwen ran her fingers along the book's surface. "It contains songs, poems, and stories of the Vyrath, the river that once connected all of Beloria. A river of great power. Magic unlike any we have ever understood. The Elves believed it gave life to the land itself, shaping the world as we know it."

A hand shot up. "Magic? But we don't have magic."

Elwen nodded. "No, we do not. Not as they did. Not as the river once did. But they recorded what they could, even though we may never truly grasp its meaning."

Thalos barely heard the rest. His eyes remained fixed on the Elven book, his pulse quickening. Something about the way the silver filigree shimmered, the way the ancient letters seemed to shift when touched by the blue glow above—it sent a thrill through him unlike anything he had ever felt before.

As the lesson moved on, he forced himself to listen, but his thoughts remained tethered to the silver-lined pages. Something about The Tales of the Vyrath called to him.

As the lesson ended, students filed out of the Great Hall, their chatter filling the vast space as the weight of the day lifted from their shoulders

The cold hit them the moment they stepped out of the Great Hall, their breath curling into the frigid air. The sky hung low and gray, with the promise of fresh snow. Brynn stretched her arms over her head, shaking off the stiffness of sitting still for too long.

"Alright," she said, rolling her shoulders. "We need to do something fun before we all freeze"

Garrick chuckled softly. "We just spent half the morning inside, sitting next to a fire. How are you freezing already?"

"That's not the point," Brynn argued. "We survived another lesson with Elwen, and that calls for a celebration."

Elara, walking slightly ahead, shot her a skeptical look. "Celebration?"

"Yes. And I have ideas." Brynn's grin was unmistakable, she had an idea.

Thalos sighed, already bracing for whatever nonsense was about to follow. "Of course you do."

Brynn ignored him. "Alright. We could go back to the market and—"

"No," Garrick cut in immediately.

Brynn scowled. "I didn't even finish!"

"Because we already know what you're going to say," Elara said flatly. "You want to sneak into old Harl's stall again, and I'm not dealing with his screaming this time."

"We were just looking," Brynn protested. "We didn't even do anything!"

"He chased us with a hammer, Brynn," Thalos reminded her. "A hammer."

Behind them, Orin let out a quiet chuckle. "And didn't he throw a bucket at you last time?"

"It missed!" Brynn huffed.

"It didn't miss," Thalos corrected. "It hit Garrick instead"

Garrick rubbed the top of his head. "Right on my head. I can still feel it."

"Fine, fine." She waved a hand dismissively. "No Harl. Then—oh! What about going to the—"

"No," Garrick and Thalos said in unison.

Brynn glared at them. "I didn't even say anything yet!"

"If it involves climbing the south watchtower again, it's a no," Elara said.

Brynn scoffed. "You act like we got in trouble for that."

"We did," Thalos said dryly. "Twice."

"Only because the guard spotted us!" Brynn crossed her arms "I wasn't the one that got caught"

"Ya, That's because we did Brynn," Elara said,shaking her head..

Brynn huffed. "Fine. No watchtower. But what about the forge? We could—"

"No," Garrick groaned. "Morran still hasn't forgiven us for the bellows incident."

Orin winced. "That was bad."

Thalos nodded. "That was bad."

Brynn grinned. "It was a little funny."

"He nearly set Garrick on fire!" Elara snapped.

Garrick laughed. "I barely felt it. It was fun."

Elara shot him a look. "You had to dive into a snowdrift to put yourself out."

Brynn rolled her eyes. "You're all no fun."

"We're alive," Thalos corrected.

Brynn tapped a gloved finger against her chin, thinking. Then her eyes lit up. "Alright, last idea. I promise this one is good."

The others groaned in unison.

"What?" Brynn said, "This one's different! We could go see—"

"If you say Owen's sledding hill, I swear—" Elara started.

"—Owen's sledding hill!" Brynn finished triumphantly.

Elara let out a strangled sigh. "Brynn."

"Come on! It's perfect! Fresh snow, fast runs, high drops, and—"

"Owen put spikes at the bottom after last time," Thalos interrupted.

Brynn blinked. "...He what?"

"Spikes," Garrick confirmed. "I saw him burying them under the snow. After you sent his brother flying into the frozen lake, he swore you'd never touch his hill again."

Brynn frowned. "That feels excessive."

"You threw Bram off a cliff, into the lake." Elara said flatly.

"It was a very small cliff!" Brynn shot Elara a frustrated look.

"Bram hasn't talked to us since" Orin sighed, pulling his cloak tighter.

Thalos sighed. "Look, Brynn, I have to agree with Elara, we've exhausted every bad idea we've ever had. And that's a long list."

Brynn groaned. "You are all impossible."

Elara smirked. "You're just not that good at coming up with ideas"

Brynn muttered something under her breath but didn't argue further.

A moment of quiet passed between them.

Then Garrick grinned. "So... We just have to make new bad ideas?"

Brynn's face lit up. "Now you're talking."

Thalos exhaled through his nose. "This is a mistake."

Elara pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is definitely a mistake."

"Please, just leave me out of it this time," Orin muttered, already dreading whatever came next.

Brynn grinned. Her eyes scanned every roof, every stall, every narrow path between the houses. "Then let's make it count."

And just like that, trouble found them again.