A/N: I have had a story like this swirling about my head for a long time and decided to go for it. As an aside, this first chapter is going to be a bit different than the rest of the story, so please don't let it discourage you if doesn't suit your taste. That's what the second chapter is for!
Please let me know what you enjoyed/any critiques. I'm always looking to improve my writing and storytelling.
Chapter 1 - Hello, friend. Can you help me?
Every speck of snow has its own story to tell. The intricate edges and curves that form jagged lines come together to form a soft frozen marvel. Eventually, all pieces of snow settle, joining the sea of white that decorates frozen treetops and covers the grounds. By joining the white landscape, each speck of snow loses that which made it unique to form something greater. They form the ocean of beautiful, blinding white that is untouched by man and beast alike.
The Hoarfrost Reach is one of these oceans. Its sea of white is peppered with frozen treetops, resisting to yield against the frigid subzero winds that shift the tides across the landscape. Those that venture far enough will encounter the grand walls of ice that tower into the sky. Vast caves and tunnels are bored into the Rocky core of these glaciers.
When discovering the Hoarfrost Reach, early explorers were petrified by the magnificent sculptures that sprinkled the treetops. The sheer size of them froze them in place, unable to move by something so grand and massive.
These same ice shears captured the imaginations of those living in Seliana. Countless stories and paintings were created and shared by the few that ventured into the unforgiving winter region. Travelers would weave grand tales of venturing into the wild and encountering the wild monsters that roamed the lands. Epics detailing the triumph and loss of the icy tundra became common, but the validity of them was never put into question. This land was truly the spawn of legends.
All these stories, however, are tied together with a common theme. It is the raging passion for survival and everything beyond. They fill the cold and desolate Hoarfrost with the power, beauty, and courage that arises from the small bits of life that sprout from the frozen ground. Every being within the tundra is a conqueror of a small portion of the world, from the tiniest pearlspring macaque that peppers the edge of hot springs to the great blue-winged Legiana that soar above in the sky. It's a cold, heartless land filled with beings that know nothing but the struggle for survival.
Today, those lands had a visitor. A young man had paved his way through the frozen thicket of the Hoarfrost Reach's coastline. Walking dozens of snow-packed miles had not slowed the pace as the craggy frozen coastline disappeared behind him. The man's heavy boots sunk knee-deep into the snow as he waded between the trees, occasionally stopping to adjust his furred cloak or to sip the last bits of hot water he had packed for his trip.
After clearing the frozen thicket lining the shore, he entered a grand crevice formed between two sheets of ice. The sun messily scattered off the jagged slopes of the ice cliffs into the canyon between them. A pack of wulg prowled around a fallen Anteka in the small clearing at the base of the cliffs. Hot steam floated off the exposed flesh as the wulg tore into the antlered beast.
The man walked passed the scene and through the ice cliffs. He paid little attention to the grand architecture and drama that unfolded in the Hoarfrost. He somehow resisted that which had captured the imaginations of any explorer, hunter, or handler that came before him. The man ventured forward without a second thought.
He continued to walk for several hours before arriving at a place of respite, a hot spring. The hot, humid air painted the man's face with a warm, tender touch. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it for a brief moment. It reminded him of his old home. The man settled for sitting near the spring, knowing he would never leave if he entered the shallow pool. The man looked around as he let the soles of his feet rest from his long journey. A group of small grey animals bathed in the warm waters. They were Pearlspring Macaques, a small animal native to this region.
Suddenly, hunger banged against the walls of the young man's stomach. He clutched his belly and immediately looked at the macaques. It was time for a quick meal. The man slowly walked around the pool and whistled, garnering the attention of the small animals. They looked at him and stared, puzzled that the man did not wade them in the hot spring with them. They cautiously approached the man, making sure they were far enough to run at any moment.
"Food?" The man asked. His voice had cracked from not speaking in a long while. The macaques began chattering amongst themselves and splintered. The man stood up and followed one to the thick underbrush nearby the pond. The pearlspring macaque darted into a hole and disappeared. The man waited for a short while before the macaque returned. It was holding some small red berries. The man took the berries and thanked the small animal. The macaque made another chattering noise and returned to its hole. The man gave a small wave goodbye to the animal before returning on his journey.
The berries filled the man's mouth with a sweetness he had forgotten. The flavor fueled the man for the next few miles of his journey. It was not long before the warm breath of the hot spring faded into the frigid winds. The man began to shiver as he felt the cold creep into the gaps in his clothes. The man tried to take the mind off the cold by eating the berries. When that stopped working, he tried to be grateful that he did not enter the warm pool.
The man continued, walking underneath massive archways of ice and through caves lined with a mirror-like sheet of ice and snow. The man stopped to stare at his reflection. He had grown a small, scraggly beard. The man snickered and made a note to shave as soon as he reached his destination. He admired his cloak, grateful for the warmth it provided.
Looking at his reflection, the man noticed a red and grey figure approaching him in the icy reflection. He turned around. A red-nosed, grey-bodied creature had sauntered into the room, just now noticing the young man. The most striking feature of its entire body were the menacing stripes that streaked lines across the creature's body and the pointed tufts of fur that stood upon its back. It let out a mighty roar, sending the man reaching for his ears. The man quickly recovered and acknowledged the Fulgur Anjanath with a wave.
The monster lumbered towards the man, cracking the dense ice with each hulking step. Its talons dug into the ground and allowed the Anjanath to grip the slippery ice. It stood well above the man, whose head barely reached halfway up the monster's mighty legs. As it approached, the man did nothing. He stood there and watched the massive beast close the distance between the two. Finally, the young man raised his palm towards the monster and cleared his throat.
"Hello, friend. Can you help me?"
The monster stopped and lowered his head towards the man. It began sniffing the young man, trying to find signs of danger. There was nothing for it to find for the man had not carried any of the weapons used by the hunters guild. Though the guild had disappeared from the region twenty years ago, their legacy had been etched into the frozen hillsides and passed down in the memories of those that survived in the Hoarfrost Reach. The man smelled of the commission but lacked the smell of the guild's hunter. The Anjanath stood back and roared again, sending a shockwave of noise and power reaching through the man's chest.
"There, there. You don't need to worry about me," He laughed, placing his palm onto the Anjanath's nose. At this distance, the outline of every scale seemed like a living mural as the Anjanath smelled the man's palm.
The man spoke again, "I'm looking for someone important to me. Can you help me find it?"
The man understood the Ananath's silence as an agreement. It patiently waited as the young man reached inside his cloak, letting the cold air pierce into his winter clothes. The man winced but found what he was looking for: a golden pendant.
The necklace jingled as the young man allowed the Anjanath to smell the necklace. The light that had bounced into the cave scattered off the intricately crafted golden frame. In its center lived a beautiful emerald stone. Sunlight danced around in the center of the necklace like the green ocean waves of the man's homeland. The Anjanath stood up and began head deeper into the cave. The man followed, relieved he had been walking down the correct path.
The man's light feet accented the heavy steps of the Anjanath as their sounds bounced off the walls of the cave. He walked at double time to keep up with the Anjanath. Soon, the sounds dulled as the icy walls gave way to a soggy, earthen den. Narrow spires of rock dotted their path, reaching out like icicles ready to fall on an unsuspecting traveler. Damp moisture clung onto the rocks and matted soil the two walked over. Scattered red and blue ferns broke the soil and soaked in the small amount of sunlight that made its way through the cave. The buzz of small insects gave something for the man to listen to whenever they walked past a warm pool inside the cave.
Extensions of the hot spring were reported by the commission to exist in the icy caves. They served as a refuge for weary travelers until they inevitably encountered a large monster. A sizable number of reports about missing hunters eventually linked to the similar grim fate of those that wandered into these caves. Those foolish enough to let their guard down had forgotten that the struggles for survival continued, even under the protective warmth of the cave.
Eventually, the damp cave opened up into the frigid snow of the Hoarfrost. Trees lined the clearing in the glaciers as the two continued their journey towards the man's destination. The man spotted a few massive woolen beasts, known as Popo, eating at the few shreds of grass that managed to break through the dense snowpack. His stomach growled loudly. As if it was laughing the Anjanath made a strange hiccup-sounding noise. The man laughed too then pointed at the Popo, suggesting it be their next meal.
Without a moment's hesitation, the Anjanath began barreling towards the Popo. It opened its mighty jaw and clamped down on an unlucky Popo. The monster lifted it and dug its long teeth deep into the Popo. The fortunate survivors quickly scattered, leaving the man and the Anjanath alone with their meal.
The man took off a chunk of meat and cooked it with a small fire he made from the nearby underbrush. He watched as the Anjanath bore into the remains of the Popo. He bit into his chunk of meat when it glistened in a warm brown. The sweet, savory meat of the woolen animal filled the man's stomach and made him feel a bit sluggish. Still, when the two finished their meal, they continued on their journey.
Now, most of the Hoarfrost reach can be described with a simple color palate. Green treetops, brown tree trunks, and white snow. Yet, when the two arrived at their destination, the brilliant blue claws of ice stood loudly in defiance. They tore out of the fresh snowfall and grand sheets of ice and ripped at the sky. The afternoon sunlight shimmered into a kaleidoscope of reds, blues, and yellows on the deep blue ice beneath the claws that bore out of the ground. The blue ice had not been found anywhere else in the Hoarfrost region. The man's journey had ended.
The young man thanked the Fulger Anjanath for its assistance and waved it goodbye. The Anajanath bowed its head and left the man. The man breathed a sigh of relief, for his long journey was over. The man had finally reached his destination. He had arrived at the ruins of Seliana.