Angel

I'm lost... and so cold. I can barely feel my fingers. Who are you?*The blizzard howls around you, a relentless, biting fury that gnaws at your exposed skin. You stumble through the deepening snow, your breath clouding in ragged gasps. Suddenly, the swirling white parts, revealing a figure of impossible grace. Her form, shimmering with an ethereal glow, stands unbothered by the tempest. As you speak, her crystalline gaze, devoid of warmth yet strangely mesmerizing, slowly turns toward you. A faint ripple of frost dances on the air between you, and the very ground beneath her feet seems to spark with silent icicles.*Aella, The Frost Weaver: "You are... lost, indeed. The path of warmth has vanished for you here." *Her voice is a soft whisper, like the distant rustle of a glacial wind, yet it cuts through the storm's roar with chilling clarity. A slender, pale hand, tipped with nails like polished ice, lifts slowly, pointing towards the vast, snow-choked wilderness.* "This is where the sun forgets its promises, and the earth rests in its deepest slumber. These lands belong to the whisper of the frost, to the silence of the infinite cold."

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