Chapter 1: Origins
At the northern border of the Hoolemere Sea lay the Ice Narrows, a slender strait linking the S'yrthghar and the N'yrthghar.
The masses of ice flanking the channel were riddled with rounded depressions. These indentations marked the entrances to the network of interconnected tunnels riddling the interior of the strait's walls.
During the War of the Ember, as well as in the distant age of Hoole, hagsfiends and sinister owls congregated there to engage in dark rituals and practice nachtmagen.
Its current denizens, however, were puffins, dumpy creatures with brightly colored bills who depended on the fish inhabiting the strait for survival.
A stark contrast existed between the kingdoms on either side – especially during the time of the Golden Rain. The Ice Narrows, therefore, was practically a gateway to another world.
The vast expanses of snow and ice comprising the mainland and the frigid, churning waters of the Everwinter Sea, locked in an eternal struggle for dominance, had reached an impasse. The sun was incapable of ending the stalemate, as it never crept high enough above the horizon to tip the balance.
Storm-wracked and hostile, the Northern Kingdoms had a plethora of treasures to offer regardless.
Ordinary owls took up residence there, not to mention unique groups such as gadfeathers, kraals, and the Glauxian Brothers and Sisters.
Despite the challenging conditions, eking out an existence that allowed one to not only survive, but thrive, was not a difficult task. The only prerequisites were a steadfast gizzard and a confident demeanor.
Stormfast Island was one of eight island territories in the N'yrthghar. Bordered by Kiel Bay to the north, the Tridents to the west, and the Ice Narrows to the south, its location in the Everwinter Sea was unfavorable.
The confluence of currents in the water below and weather patterns in the skies above meant it was lashed by chilling gales and battered by foul tempests on a regular basis.
Blizzards would spawn out of nowhere and come barreling in at any time of day or night, blanketing the island with impressive amounts of snow.
Owls could rely on their gizzards to sense impending shifts in the weather, which gave them a notable advantage.
Preparedness and a quick wit was also beneficial, lest one be pounced on by a typhoon when out in the open.
Trees, a luxury of the S'yrthghar, did not occur on the island for the very reasons described above. In their stead, the Northern Kingdom's residents lived in chambers, be they natural or artificial, carved out of the rock-hard substrate.
One such being was a Northern Saw-Whet Owl by the name of Kyla. The eldest of her kraal parents' first brood, she'd hatched alongside a brother and sister on the Hrath'ghar Glacier near the Bay of Fangs.
A bit of a dreamer and gifted with artistic ability, Kyla decided against becoming a kraal herself. Deeming it too brutish and risky, she favored more casual endeavors.
Her father, Aric, and her mother, Elise, were initially taken aback by her announcement. They soon experienced a change of heart and agreed to help their daughter realize her wishes.
Having raised such a clever, enthusiastic, and benevolent child, they were eager to see what path her desires would lead her down.
The night of Kyla's departure from her family's home, that warm, familiar place where she'd matured and fabricated countless memories, was a melancholy one, as it should be.
Mother, father, and daughter, locked in a heartfelt embrace, dampened each other's feathers with tears of sadness and joy. Her siblings, Theodore and Sofia, were overcome by sorrow and delight as well.
Following that emotional exchange, Kyla, having reached 10 moons of age, bid her family goodbye, promising she would visit them every couple moon cycles if possible. As the pastel hues of dawn spilled over the distant horizon, Kyla ventured out over the light-dappled Everwinter Sea.
She flew with two well-worn botkins, the one on her back – attached by means of a harness – packed full of various tools and supplies, and the other, gripped tightly in her talons, loaded with her most prized belongings.
Shunning the heavily-populated Dark Fowl Island as well as the inhospitable Ice Dagger, she drifted on by and continued westward.
The journey happened to be as necessary as it was symbolic; the sun rising behind her, it represented the beginning of the next chapter of her life. Hitching a ride on the playful morning tailwind, her trek was swift and almost effortless.
Obeying the silent coercion of her gizzard, Kyla chose to settle on Stormfast Island.
While cruising low over the island's western reaches, she chanced upon the perfect shelter.
Guarded by an overhang of ice-encrusted stone, its dimensions suited an owl of her stature quite well; it was neither too spacious and overwhelming nor too tiny and cramped.
Its west-facing entrance granted the interior an additional level of protection against intrusion by wind and snow.
The night had melted away and the urge to sleep began to seep into her hollow bones. She forced herself to remain awake long enough to construct a rudimentary bed.
After plugging the chamber mouth halfway with snow, she sank into the cozy bed composed of her parents' softest down feathers. She then tucked two owlipoppen into the empty space beside her – miniature versions of them she'd created as an owlet.
Rendered drowsy by the muffled howling of the wind outside, Kyla shut her gleaming eyes and slipped into a peaceful slumber at last.
In the days and weeks that followed, the plucky Saw-Whet Owl wasted no time in thinking of how to best unleash her creativity.
Yet again, her gizzard guided her like the Hoolestar guided lost and disoriented owlets.
In a realm dominated by ice of a crude variety, why not refine it into ice sculptures? It made logical sense and she needed no further persuasion.
Plentiful resources were all around and she swiftly devised ways to utilize them to achieve her goal.
First she discovered she could make molds by carefully shaping piles of earth and leaving them near the mouth of the den. The chilled air caused any moisture in the molds to freeze, bonding the soil particles together.
Though they became firm and durable, they were also brittle and susceptible to fracturing. Kyla learned to be more cognizant of her movements after damaging a few molds merely by bumping into them or knocking them over.
She started out with a few basic shapes, aware of the fact that she'd have to hone her skills before progressing to more advanced ones. Kyla avoided having to travel to the sea to gather water to be frozen by using her glass reading scope as a lens.
An object originally designed and wielded by an Other, her parents had bartered for it and used it to scrutinize small pieces of treasure they looted on raids.
She punched a small, slanted hole in the ceiling and wedged the lens into it. Its curved cross-section focused the low-hanging sun's meager light into a beam just intense enough to melt the mixture of snow and ice pieces she packed into her molds.
Granted she could only liquefy the contents of one mold at a time and the change of state was somewhat slow, but breathing on the mixture helped accelerate the conversion.
Once all five molds were filled nearly to the brim with crystal clear liquid water, she gingerly relocated them to the cave's mouth.
After catching a vole to quell her hunger she went to bed, optimistic that her trial run would be a success. When she inspected the molds the following night at moonrise, she realized it was successful indeed.
She brought the molds inside and gingerly extracted the cold chunks of material. Laying out the small set of metal tools she'd been given – including a dagger should she ever need to defend herself – she rigorously testing the ice.
Variables such as each tool's tip shape, tip-surface angle, force behind each blow, thickness of the ice, and more all affected how it behaved when struck.
Rather than wing it – if you'll pardon the pun – she took diligent notes, jotting down any important discoveries on a sheet of parchment with a feather she plucked and dipped in ink.
After reducing the ice blocks to haphazard mounds of jagged chips, she scooped them into molds, melted them, and refroze them to be tested again. Incorporating this routine into her usual activity schedule, she repeated the procedure on a nightly basis.
The learning process was both painstaking and taxing to Kyla's body and mind. Nonetheless, her skills gradually sharpened and her technique became more refined.
It required one whole moon cycle's worth of tedious trial and error, but Kyla eventually tamed the fickle medium. Whatever she could visualize with her mind's eye – albeit with some limitations in terms of complexity and scale – she could bring to life.
Her magnum opus was an immaculate sphere – its diameter equal to the width of her wing – polished to a mirror finish.
She'd created it by forming two identical hemispheres, coating the flat side of the lower half with a thin water film, and stacking the inverted upper half on top of its counterpart.
Managing to fabricate the desired product in a single attempt surprised her, but then again, it did not, for she had far surpassed the rank of neophyte.
The sole enhancement she implemented was the smoothing out of the faint seam where the two halves were joined.
The interior of the sky-blue sphere featured elegant swirls of teal, like cloth ribbons forever frozen in the middle of a mystic dance.
How and why they appeared Kyla lacked the answers to. An explanation of the swirls' origins was irrelevant, as she need not solve the mystery to cherish the immaculate orb.
Her reflection manifested on its surface whenever she approached, its proportions warped yet the ingenuity and individuality of its maker untouched.
In the days and weeks that followed, Kyla brought a menagerie of sculptures to life, but only as many as the chamber could accommodate.
She promptly began making her presence known to the owls of the region.
During – and sometimes in-between – hunting trips on Stormfast, she approached any neighbors she spotted flying about and asked if she could speak to them.
Fortunately, none rejected her outright and most were comfortable with inviting her into their homes.
She initiated the conversation by describing herself and her hobby. She then inquired if they would like to obtain an ice sculpture and showed them fairly accurate sketches she'd drawn.
If they were interested, she handed over a list of things she wanted or needed in exchange for a sculpture or two.
Roughly half of the owls Kyla conversed with possessed the items she coveted, a rate that pleased her. When the trade was complete, Kyla supplied them with a care sheet so that they could preserve the sculpture indefinitely.
The other half either didn't own any such items – in which case she presented them with a small figurine for free – or stated that her works of art were better off with owls that could properly maintain them.
Gadfeathers and kraals were her preferred customers. Their way of life revolved around excursions throughout the N'yrthghar, granting them access to all manner of baubles unknown to regular owls.
Kyla used the decorative items and trinkets she obtained to renovate her home, converting it from a drab pit in the ground to a colorful, merry space that reflected her personality.
Valuable items she gathered included a three-legged cradle for the orb, a sizable piece of fabric to seal off the opening of her dwelling, and a small bowl sporting a perforated lid in which fragrant plant matter could be stored or burned to aromatize the air.
Kyla might not have condoned the kraal lifestyle but found the plumage-dyeing tradition to be quite intriguing.
She mashed a handful of a special kind of berry into a pulp and spread the jelly over the tips of her wing and tail feathers. She waited a few minutes before wiping the sticky substance off, revealing the rich sapphire shade her feathers had acquired.
Perhaps my more natural appearance will gain me that much more favor with the inhabitants of this land…
So it was that Kyla established herself as the premier artisan – not to mention merchant – of the Northern Kingdoms.
Wholly opposed to sacrificing privacy for popularity, she kept the exact whereabouts of her dwelling a secret.
Alternatively, she ventured to the Pirates' Lair on the glacier twice each moon to meet with potential trade partners and conduct trades themselves.
The kraals considered her a part of their crew, treating her to delicious food and satisfying drink every visit.
Kyla was living the dream, plain and simple; it goes without saying that she'd no doubt earned her reward.
Three moons since her emotional departure, she fell victim to a deep yearning to see her family again. As the milky eventide descended one night, Kyla spontaneously decided to return to her former home.
Packing a few necessities into her botkin, she slung it over her back, concealed the entryway of her residence, and decamped Stormfast.
Her gizzard tingled the entire duration of the trek, a physical manifestation of her eagerness to assure them she was fine and recount her recent triumphs.
Upon arrival, she landed as quietly as possible so as not to betray her presence. Her relatives had their backs to her and it seemed they were preparing to feast.
Kyla inhaled and uttered a single flute-like hoot. All four owls spun their heads 180 degrees.
A wave of recognition swept over their faces and their eyes glowed as bright as the moon.
"Sister… it's you…"
"Oh Kyla… we've missed you so much. Thank Glaux you're alright."
"I've missed you as well, and that is why I have come."
"Welcome home, dearest daughter…"