[✶ Frostmirror ✶]

A Chronicle of Whitevale: Land of Frosted GraceWhitevale. A kingdom where winter's embrace shapes not only the land but the very soul of its people. Here, amidst snow-kissed peaks and forests that shimmer with ancient magic, lies a realm unlike any other. To speak of Whitevale is to speak of a world where magic is more than mere sorcery - it is the lifeblood of the land, a current that flows through the veins of every creature, every tree, every stone.Travelers from distant lands, accustomed to the warmth of the sun upon their faces, might shiver at the sight of Whitevale's snow-capped peaks, their summits lost in mists that swirl with an otherworldly light. Yet, within this land of frosted forests and rivers that gleam like ribbons of liquid ice, there exists a harmony rarely found elsewhere.Here, magic is not a force to be feared or controlled, but a gift to be nurtured and understood. It manifests in the delicate dance of the aurora borealis, painting the night sky with hues of emerald and amethyst. It whispers in the ancient pines, their needles frosted with silver, and sings in the rushing waters of glacier-fed streams.The people of Whitevale, hardy and resilient as the land itself, live in tune with this magic. They weave it into their songs and stories, their traditions honoring the ancient pact between humankind and nature. Skilled artisans craft weapons that shimmer with an inner light, their edges imbued with the strength of the mountains themselves.But Whitevale is not merely a realm of serene beauty. It is a land forever poised on the edge of a blade, its heart forever marked by a past shrouded in shadow. For where there is light, there is always…darkness.—The Guardians of Whitevale: Protectors and the FrostguardsSome say that unknown figures, chosen by fate and bound to the land itself, guide Whitevale's destiny. They are the unseen shepherds, the whispers in the wind, their presence felt but rarely witnessed. Whether they walk among mortals or reside in hidden realms, their influence echoes through the deeds of those sworn to protect Whitevale.Foremost among these protectors are the Frostguards, an order as old as Whitevale itself. Seven warriors, their numbers echoing the unseen guardians, bear the weight of this sacred duty. Born with the kiss of winter upon their souls, these individuals inherit a legacy of courage and sacrifice, destined to stand as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness. Clad in armor that shimmers like ice beneath the pale sun, they patrol the borders, their blades imbued with the very chill of the north wind. For a Frostguard, there is no higher calling than to lay down one's life in defense of Whitevale, their deeds woven into the very fabric of the land's history.—Darkvale: Where Shadows Whisper and Legends Fear to TreadBut Whitevale, for all its beauty and resilience, does not stand alone. Like a scar upon the very fabric of existence, a reflection twisted by an ancient sorrow, lies Darkvale. To speak its name aloud is to invite a chill wind into the heart, to stir the shadows in the corners of one's soul.And here lies the true terror of Darkvale - it is not a distant land, separated by miles or mountains, but a chilling presence that coexists with Whitevale in the same space and time. An unseen seam, woven through the very fabric of reality, holds the two realms apart, a barrier maintained only by the most ancient and powerful of magic.Whispers and rumors paint a chilling portrait of this blighted realm. They speak of a land where the sun dares not shine, where the trees claw at a sky the color of old bruises, and the very air hangs heavy with the scent of decay and despair.Few in Whitevale dare to speak of Darkvale openly, for fear of drawing its attention…—The Condemned: The Doomlords and the BlazekeepersAt the heart of Darkvale, shrouded in whispers and shadowed legends, dwell the Doomlords. They are the architects of despair, their true forms and motives as impenetrable as the darkness from which they were born. Some say they were once noble guardians of Whitevale, their hearts twisted by an ancient betrayal. Others believe they are creatures of pure shadow, spawned from the rift that birthed Darkvale itself.Across the veil, echoing the presence of the Frostguards, exist the Blazekeepers. They are the instruments of the Doomlords' will, a terrifying mockery of all that the Frostguards represent. The Blazekeepers are a constant threat, lurking just beyond the veil, their corrupted magic a chilling reflection of Whitevale's power. They wait for the moment when they might unleash their fury upon the world, to extinguish the light and usher in an age of unending shadow.

We are all condemn—