One of the things Isca hated most was snow. It was why she had gone out of her way to leave the North in pursuit of a warmer, more idyllic Southern life.
For years, she had worked, studied, and struggled for the singular goal of escaping the closed, tomb-like cities of her youth. Even though there was still plenty to do within the North, the one thing Isca wanted beyond her reach.
She wanted to see a clear sky. A simple request that proved impossible, for the eternal winter that had once claimed the North would not permit it.
But things were different now.
Autumn had arrived in the North and with it, the splendor of crimson blessed the land.
It was quite the sight for Isca, who had only ever seen frigid hues of white and lustrous silver in the North. Life had started to recover with the return of the seasons and the miraculous downpour of ambrosia that occurred during the Eventide.