Mycan | 900 follower special

Hollowheart was dark, the sky shrouded with heavy clouds that stopped the sun from shining. Snow fell down, as it had been for years. The heart of the town pulsed with a dead magic, the statue of an old warlock standing there with the heart of it held in its hand. It was history to Hollowheart, a hero devoured by frost. He had ripped out a part of him, draining his life and magic into the artifact. The heart was turned to stone, although some say it still beats to keep the warmth satiated. The snow didn't touch Hollowheart.

The eternal winter had formed from the kingdom just north of Hollowheart, the palace cold and desolate. It had been abandoned after the death of the king, his debts unpaid and his wife falling ill. The Queen wasn't able to keep the kingdom safe, and without an heir, it had been abandoned. The frost had been slow, barely able to whisper out of the kingdoms territory until someone fed their magic into it. The eternal winter spread like a rapid plague, devouring half of the world that weren't able to protect themselves or their homes. Crops were difficult to keep, livestock bred to live through the freeze, and the trees a little too damp for proper fires.

The frost lived for forty years until the divinity above decided to take action. They gave four children the gift of magic that couldn't be matched. Countered, yes, but not even the greatest of mages could strip it away. Along with their gifts, they sent down the brightest star they had, a deity whose purpose was never specified. A light amidst the blizzard. It was the best decision the divinity have made all century.

Mycan traveled for days, his crystalline body adopting the cold air. He had been looking for the gifted, and so far had only found one; a centaurian who made efforts to keep her herd fed and warm. She was gifted by the sun, her hands a natural warmth that could burn even the most thick skinned giants. Fortunately for her herd, but unfortunately for Mycan, she refused to leave. So, Mycan granted their wish of perfect harvests until the frost ended, their crops, which had been suffering and barely able to sprout, begun thriving an hour after he left.

The town of Lyre was a little lively, children running and playing in the snow as they huddled tight in large clothing made of sheep wool and goat fur. He noted the prominent species in the town, Snow Fae. The adults of the Snow Fae were truly the pinnacle of attraction, shifting their bodies and faces to be what somebody would find to be the perfect partner. No deformities, no blemishes, and symmetry that made some folk overly envious. "Excuse me, my lady, may I ask where Mr. Silvine is?" Mycan asked, approaching a woman and putting his hands behind his back out of habit. The woman thought for a moment, her black hair shifting before she turned. "The library. Be warned, it's enchanted to be larger than it appears." The woman said. "I see. Thank you." Mycan smiled before walking off.

The library was warm, a hearth lit large. A dragon was curled below the glass-like flooring, its magnificent scales catching each flame lick or the twinkles of a lantern. Large bookshelves lined in odd-numbered rows, plaques signing each author. Mycan knew quite a few of them, in fact he could recite their books word for word. He looked around before he settled on a vacant table, noting how it seemed Mr. Silvine left his satchel to browse for more books.