1.
Harsh, uneven rock ripped at her hands, biting at their tips. The climb was a constant battle between her and the elements. It was agony, her grip threatened to falter after every haul up to the next available crack. Death waited, lay silently below. Waiting for the single wrong move that would send her plummeting down into its abyss. Every move was slow, laden with the uncertainty as to whether the rock would give way or hold her weight for a few moments more. No magic would save her now. Not even the little she had left over, the rest of it smothered by the invisible barrier that had appeared as soon as she'd stepped into the mountains. This elven kingdom it seemed wanted all magic stifled along with the bloody history it was trying to hide.
Taking a calming breath she readied to push herself up to the next hand hold. As she moved the ache in her arms became unbearable, a continual throb over her muscles. She looked up to where the final edge lay no more than a few meters up. Torturously slowly the ledge got closer and closer until she was reaching up to grab it. Her pack was a dead weight on her shoulders as she used the final tethers of energy to pull herself onto its safe ground.
She lay there for what felt like hours, getting her breath back and regaining her strength. After a while she raised herself from the ground and looked around. Wind beckoned in a song to her gifts, rebelling against the lands leash on magic. Its cool, serene breeze ran through her hair and weaved between her hand. Instantly calming the pain that was a dull thud in her fingertips. Beside her, on a small pile of rock, grew flowers, petals lilac and blue. Their colours blended together like a sky at dusk. How strange that something so small could thrive in this unforgiving, frozen landscape. They rocked in the draft of wind that cut down the rocks, standing like small, colourful trees.
Suddenly a gust of air pushed into her, carrying the smell of lavender and butterscotch. It drew her focus from the flowers and onto what lay beyond.
The elf kingdom of Kandinaria stood elegant and refined. An empire built to prosper and flourish. Clearly it had, even from a distance the marble walls of every building glowed in the sun like pearls. But enough, she was not here to admire. That could be done once her work was finished and her deal was made, for now her only focus was what lay beyond the castle walls and the king she had yet to meet. So, with a slanted grin, Farren Cymorea made her way down towards the kingdom gates, leaving behind the merciless landscape of rock and snow...preparing herself to raise hell.