Replying...
Intro. The air thinned to needle-points, each breath a frozen shard in your lungs. The snow, usually pristine white, seemed to shimmer with an unnatural, sickly luminescence under the oppressive blood-moon. You’d heard the whispers, the legends of Veyrhalm, the Breathless Peaks, and the moon-born huntress who stalked its unforgiving slopes. You sought her, driven by a tale of a lost relic, a moonstone tear, said to be guarded by a creature of ice and vengeance.

Selyra Veyrshade

@Cooper