Grorith, Flatrest, at the foot of Icevein Crest, autumn (1618 a.L)

The icy expanse of Grorith stretched endlessly, its stark and unyielding terrain a brutal counterpoint to the vibrant, flourishing fields of Anderwyn they had left behind. Here, the ground lay perpetually frozen, the crunch of snow and ice beneath their boots a sharp reminder of the region's unforgiving nature. The air bore an almost palpable weight, as though the cold itself carried a menacing intent, seeping insidiously through every layer of protection. Looming in the distance was Icevein Crest, its jagged peaks thrusting skyward like the teeth of some ancient leviathan. The mountain's snowbound slopes gleamed under the spectral light of the moon, and veins of glacial ice crisscrossed its surface like eerie, luminous scars, pulsating faintly in the frigid air. A mournful wind howled incessantly, weaving between the peaks, carrying with it a sound that might have been mistaken for the lamentations of lost souls.

At the base of this forbidding range lay the diminutive town of Flatrest. The settlement's dark wooden buildings clung together like fragile survivors against the cold, their roofs frosted white and their windows shuttered tightly against the relentless chill. The streets lay silent and deserted, as if the very cold had stilled all movement and life. Only a solitary building betrayed any sign of activity: the town's modest tavern. From one of its rooms, a sudden and brilliant burst of light flared, momentarily illuminating the snow-dusted cobblestones outside with an almost otherworldly brightness. The light quickly faded, leaving the frosted windows to return to their muted golden glow. Against the oppressive silence outside, the tavern's vitality felt both defiant and fragile.

Inside one of the modest chambers the tavern had to offer, the atmosphere shifted to one of uneasy warmth. Raelyn, Hovan, Benji, and Rakz occupied the small room, which was sparsely furnished with a single wooden table, three beds, and a narrow hearth where a roaring fire provided much-needed respite from the bone-deep chill of their journey. The flames cast flickering shadows across the rough-hewn walls, giving the room a semblance of life. Rakz stretched out near the fire, his sleek, scaled body basking in the warmth. His yellow eyes glimmered faintly in the glow, darting occasionally toward the corners of the chamber with a vigilant wariness. The dragon-like creature's tail flicked lazily, his calm demeanor concealing his ever-watchful nature.

Raelyn leaned back in her chair, lowering the glowing white locket she held. Its faint radiance dimmed as she let out a soft exhale, her breath forming a visible cloud in the cooler patches of the room. "The coast is clear," she said, her voice steady yet hushed. "No shadow demons. At least, none that the locket can detect."

Benji's audible sigh of relief broke the tension. He leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the small, narrow bed pushed against the corner of the room. The mattress, though modest and thin, might as well have been a royal luxury after their grueling days of travel and freezing nights outdoors. He grinned broadly and let out a contented sigh. "Thank the gods," he muttered, staring at the bed as though it were a beacon of salvation. "I don't think I've ever been so thankful for four walls and a roof. And an actual bed?" He shook his head, his grin widening. "I'm not leaving that thing until someone physically drags me out."

Hovan allowed himself a faint smirk, his pragmatism softening momentarily. "Enjoy it while you can, Benji. Beds don't usually feature in our kind of journey."

Raelyn's lips quirked into a slight smile. "You sound like you've missed soft beds before," she teased lightly.

Hovan's eyes glinted with dry humor. "Missed isn't quite the word I'd use. But I've learned not to get too attached."

Benji chuckled, his gaze still lingering on the bed. "Well, I'm getting attached right now. Let's just say if that bed had arms, I'd marry it."

Raelyn snorted softly at his exaggerated devotion. "It's nice to see you've found your true love, Benji. But you might not feel the same after you wake up with a sore back."

Benji shrugged dramatically. "Worth it. This thing could be made of stone, and I'd still sleep like a baby tonight."

Hovan's faint smirk faded as his practical side took over. "If we're going to make it through Grorith, we'll need more than a warm bed and a fire."

Raelyn tilted her head slightly, curiosity lacing her expression. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone probing but even.

"New supplies," Hovan replied, his voice steady, carrying the certainty of a seasoned traveler. "Warmer clothes, better provisions. The food we have now will freeze solid the moment we step outside. And that's just for the lowlands. If we're venturing any closer to Icevein Crest, we're walking into a death trap unless we're properly prepared."

Benji's grin faltered, and his gaze followed Hovan's toward the frost-laden window. His fingers tapped absently against the table as he spoke. "Icevein Crest," he murmured, his tone thoughtful. "My mother used to tell me stories about that place when I was a kid. Said it was haunted. She'd scare me with tales of banshees... souls of people who died in the cold, cursed to wander the peaks. Their wails mix with the howling wind, and if they touch you..." He trailed off, glancing at the others. "Well, you'd be frozen to the core. Another lost soul wandering the mountain."

Raelyn suppressed a shiver, her fingers curling slightly as she drew her cloak tighter. "Do you think there's any truth to those stories?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost tentative.

Benji shrugged, offering a faint smile tinged with unease. "When I was younger, I thought they were just cautionary tales. But now?" His smile faded entirely. "After everything we've seen... who's to say what's real and what's not?"

Hovan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. "The world has changed," he said grimly. "Demons roam Unevia, and I've seen things I would've dismissed as nonsense a couple years ago. Ghosts, ghouls, banshees? I'm not ruling anything out anymore."

Raelyn's gaze lingered on the window, where the outline of Icevein Crest loomed faintly against the starless night. A mix of intrigue and apprehension flickered in her expression. "What about the gremlins?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Do you think they're still up there? If anyone has answers about the locket, it'd be them."

Hovan sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Gremlins are a mystery," he began, his tone edged with both respect and caution. "Brilliant inventors, masters of machines and innovation. But humans... we got greedy. Took their creations, claimed them as our own, and left the gremlins with nothing. That's when they vanished, retreating into the peaks of Icevein Crest. No one's seen them since."

Benji leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed in thought. "So what? They just disappeared, and nobody's bothered to go after them?"

"Not exactly," Hovan replied. "Plenty have tried over the years. Treasure hunters, scholars, adventurers. But Icevein Crest isn't the kind of place you explore lightly. Most who go looking for the gremlins don't come back."

Raelyn's eyes narrowed as she considered his words. "But if they're still there, wouldn't it be worth the risk?" she pressed. "If they know something about the locket, they might hold the key to stopping all of this."

Hovan shook his head, his tone firm but not unkind. "If they're still alive," he emphasized. "And even if they are, reaching them is another matter entirely. That mountain isn't just cold; it's deadly. The blizzards alone could kill you, and that's assuming nothing else does. Whatever lives up there now... it's not friendly. Without a way to locate the gremlins, roaming aimlessly would be certain death."

"Certain death or not, they might be the only ones who can help us," Raelyn insisted, her voice tinged with frustration. "We can't just dismiss the possibility."

Benji shifted in his seat, his expression uneasy. "I don't know," he said slowly. "It's not that I don't want answers, but Hovan's right. We don't even know where to start. Wandering into those peaks without a plan is... reckless."

Raelyn turned her gaze to the fire, her thoughts churning. "Maybe. But if we don't at least consider it, we could be missing something crucial. Something that could change everything."

Hovan's expression softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. "I understand your determination, Raelyn. But sometimes the best choice is the one that keeps us alive. We have to pick our battles. And right now, Icevein Crest isn't one we're equipped to fight."

A tense silence followed his words, broken only by the crackling of the hearth. Benji glanced between Raelyn and Hovan, his discomfort evident. Rakz stirred by the fire, letting out a low, rumbling sigh, as if attuned to the weight of their conversation.

Finally, Raelyn exhaled, a mix of frustration and resignation in her expression. "Maybe you're right," she said quietly. "But I'm not giving up on the idea entirely. If there's even a chance the gremlins can help, we owe it to ourselves to find a way."

Hovan nodded, his tone softening. "Fair enough. But for now, let's focus on what we can do. And that is reaching Dwendari and seeking an audience with the dwarves. Maybe they can identify the stone inside that locket."

The table fell into a tense silence, the crackling of the hearth the only sound. Benji stared into the fire, his expression clouded with thought. Rakz stirred beside the hearth, letting out a low, rumbling sigh as if attuned to the gravity of their conversation. Raelyn, however, kept her eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the mountain, a flicker of determination hardening her features. Hovan's warnings made sense, but the possibility of leaving a crucial lead unexplored gnawed at her, igniting a quiet but unyielding resolve deep within.

The marketplace of Flatrest came alive with the first light of dawn. Merchants wrapped in thick, fur-lined cloaks called out their wares, their voices rising above the clamor of customers bartering for necessities. The air was sharp with the mingling scents of smoked meats, freshly baked bread, and the metallic tang of frost. Snow crunched beneath boots as Raelyn, Hovan, and Benji made their way through the bustling streets, their breath visible in the frigid air.

Benji stretched his arms wide, letting out a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Best sleep of my life." he announced, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd and earning a curious glance from a passing merchant. "I'm telling you, nothing like a couple nights sleeping in the wilderness to make you appreciate the simple pleasure of a bed. I slept like a log."

Hovan snorted, his expression wry. "You sounded like a log too. A loud, sawing log."

Benji's grin widened. "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment," he shot back, placing his hands on his hips. "Means I'm well-rested. Which is good because..." He gestured broadly to the snow-covered peaks in the distance. "That mountain looks like it's waiting to eat us alive."

Raelyn smiled faintly, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Let's focus on surviving the marketplace first," she said. "Hovan's right. We need better supplies if we're going to make it to Dwendari."

They stopped at a stall displaying rows of cloaks and insulated boots. The merchant, a stout woman with a weathered face, beamed as they approached. "You won't find better cloaks anywhere in Flatrest," she declared, holding up a deep blue garment lined with fur. "Warm as a hearth fire, and tough enough to withstand Icevein's winds."

Raelyn ran her fingers over the fabric, testing its weight and texture. She nodded appreciatively. "How much?"

The merchant named her price, and Raelyn handed over a small pouch of coins. As she removed her old cloak to try on the new one, her white hair tumbled free, catching the morning light. The vibrant strands glistened against the muted backdrop of the marketplace.

"Raelyn?"

The voice came from behind her, familiar and tinged with disbelief. She froze, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she turned to face the speaker. He stood a few paces away, his green eyes wide with recognition. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and his breath hung in the cold air like a phantom.

"It really is you," he murmured, stepping forward. Before Raelyn could react, he pulled her into a firm embrace. "I can't believe it."

Raelyn's cheeks burned as her mind scrambled to process the moment. "Folainn?" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.