Prologue

The Rune Wars ended in a catastrophic disaster, erasing numerous states and peoples from the face of the earth. Those who survived faced unimaginable hardships, and the wounds inflicted on the world continued to be felt for a long time. The survivors grew stronger and established settlements to unite, one of which was the fortress of Nexus, which withstood destruction. Its mighty walls provided refuge for those in need. Food was scarce, and life was hard, but people found the strength to rise from the darkness. They gathered their courage to move forward and restore what was lost.

On the other side of the continent, caravans of survivors discovered a tree that provided them with protection from terrifying magic. This tree had a unique ability to absorb and neutralize any magical energy. Dark sorcerers and creatures of darkness no longer posed a threat. Thus, the kingdom of Demacia emerged, founded on hatred for cursed magic and all that it brought.

In the northern part of the continent, in the coldest region, life was already tough. Yet even this land was touched by war. The echoes of battles destroyed the land and ruined crops from the few plantations. Hunger leads to anger, and when you see your children starving, you are forced to take up arms and fight for food, for survival. The Freljord, a continent of eternal winter, where gods walk among mortals. However, these gods care little for them.

The continent was engulfed in war, where the strong took food from the weak, who in turn tried to survive through desperate attempts to resist the strong. Numerous clans attacked each other, striving to secure another day for their people and avoid death from hunger. This went on for several years until life began to reawaken in this cold land.

The land started to come back to life: plants bloomed again in the warm valleys of Freljord. The population of the region significantly decreased, which increased opportunities for animals, allowing their numbers to grow once more. People began to restore crops that had suffered multiple times during the war. Perhaps if they had managed to overcome rage and anger, focusing their efforts on resource recovery, this war over hunger could have been avoided. Alas, there is no turning back, only looking ahead and hoping for a better future.

The Freljord was home to three main clans. The Avarosan tribe, the smallest of them, adheres to the teachings of Avarosa. This tribe welcomes change and prefers to resolve conflicts peacefully. Located in the warmer regions of Freljord, suitable for agriculture, the Avarosan, despite their peaceful nature, have many strong warriors ready to defend their tribe.

The Frostguard is a mysterious cult whose members dwell in the far north among ancient ruins, guarding their leader Lissandra, who watches over the Howling Abyss. Their missionaries and healers can be found throughout the Freljord.

The warlike Winter's Claw tribe strictly follows the traditions of their ancestors. In summer, the tribe gathers provisions in the highlands, forests, and along the northern rivers, while in winter they raid the southern lands, crossing frozen seas on ice. This tribe produces the strongest warriors, ready to fearlessly charge into the heat of battle. If you dare to challenge them, be prepared to give your life.

In one of the settlements of this tribe, a child was born who was unlike any other. Typically, when a child was born in a family, they reflected the traits of their parents, were resilient to the cold, and had robust health. But young Kailen was deprived by nature – he was weak and suffered from even the slightest breeze. He had to be wrapped in many woolen blankets to keep him from freezing. While other children grew stronger and became more adept at handling the cold, Kailen remained frail and sickly.

His mother, despite the child's poor health, believed that he would recover and one day become a mighty warrior, unmatched by anyone. But his father despised his son. He could not tolerate weakness, believed only in strength, and was a born warrior. He heard the mockery of the tribesmen, thinking that if a child was born this way, it was inherited from the parents. This enraged him. How could they doubt his strength? It was only by a miracle that he did not kill the child with his own hands. His wife stepped in every time, calming him with the hope that Kailen would soon become strong. Unfortunately, years passed, but the child did not grow any stronger.

When Kailen turned nine, he struggled to go outside – the relentless cold struck him hard. His peers were already learning to handle weapons, accompanying their fathers on hunts, and mastering the art of survival in the forest. Kailen understood that he had to become strong, for others would not survive here otherwise. He tried to train, even attempted to endure the cold, but it always ended with a cold and being bedridden.

His father's patience ran out. One day, he couldn't take it anymore and decided to settle the issue once and for all. He returned home in a grim mood. His wife greeted him with a prepared dinner, and Kailen sat at the table, waiting for his father.

"Later, son, get ready, we're going hunting," the family head said grimly.

"Dear, Kailen is not ready for this," his wife cautiously objected. She saw his growing discontent and understood that the child wouldn't survive such an outing.

"He is ready," the family head said coldly.

"My husband, I beg you, for my sake," she pleaded.

"No, either he goes out by himself, or I'll throw him out and take him with me," he issued an ultimatum.

The sobbing woman had no choice; she knew his words were not empty threats – he would do exactly that. With a trembling hand, she began to prepare her son for the hunt, trying to give him at least some chance to survive. She gathered the warmest clothes and packed all the food she could. She hugged her son tightly and didn't want to let him go.

"We're going," the family head said, pushing his wife away from their son. He dragged Kailen outside by the hand.

The door opened, letting in a fierce blizzard and a bone-chilling cold. The father handed his son a bow and, without a word, adjusted his belongings and set off. Kailen tried to keep up with him. Although he had no love for his father, he knew he couldn't survive alone.

The blizzard intensified, the wind so strong that breathing became difficult, and his lungs burned as if thousands of tiny shards were cutting them. The temperature dropped noticeably. His father, seemingly unaffected by the change in weather, continued at the same steady pace. Kailen, on the other hand, struggled to walk. He felt his legs freezing, and his exposed face was long numb. Snowdrifts reached his knees, making movement difficult, and only his father's tracks allowed him to follow at all.

He didn't know how long they had been walking or how far they were from home. This was the first time he had ventured beyond the settlement. Gradually, he began to tire, his strength waning, and the cold intensifying, filling his body. His father continued without slowing down. The distance between them grew. Kailen tried to call out, but the cold had frozen his lips together, and he could only manage a muffled sound. The blizzard became so fierce that it bent trees, and visibility shrank to an arm's length.

Soon, his father's silhouette disappeared. Kailen tried to follow the tracks with his remaining strength, but the blizzard quickly covered them, erasing them completely. He looked back and saw no tracks behind him either. He saw nothing around, only snow and swirling blizzard.

One thought filled his mind: why, father? His father's betrayal crushed the child's will to live, and his last bit of strength ebbed away. He collapsed into the snow, unwilling to go on.

Suddenly, his hands clenched tightly. "I'll go back, to spite my father, and show him I'm not weak," he thought. He stood up and began to walk, staggering. He no longer felt his limbs, his eyelids frozen in place. Frost formed on his face. Yet, he walked on, despite everything.

As if to punish his defiance, nature turned harsher. The wind pelted his exhausted body with snow, knocking him down, but he got up and kept walking. He had long lost sight of where he was going; he only believed he could return.

Unexpectedly, with his next step, the ground beneath his feet vanished, and he tumbled forward. Kailen fell off a cliff, rolling down the slope. When he landed, he somersaulted several times and couldn't get up. Lying on his back, he felt he was dying. He regretted not seeing his mother again, angry at his father for what he had done, but he understood that such a fate awaited the weak. With a final breath, he froze completely. Another soul lost in the cold lands of Freljord.

The blizzard began to subside. The wind calmed, and the snow settled down. A frozen boy lay on the snow, frost covering his face, his lifeless eyes staring at the sky.

The snow next to his right hand began to turn into grains, drawn to his open palm, moving as if alive, gathering in his hand. Nature, aggressive towards the child, became soft and caring. The snow settled comfortably around his body, covering him like a blanket.

A faint breath emerged from his nose, cold vapor rising upward. His frozen eyes glowed with a blue light. His hand clenched into a fist, scattering snow. His body began to show signs of life, rising from its slumber.

Standing up to his full height, the blue light vanished from his eyes, but they had lost their color, turning completely white. His skin had become pale, like that of a corpse. This was no longer the Kailen who had come here.