The light of the suns overflows with heat. It gifts warmth to the lands. It warms them, but also incinerates them. The moonlight is different. There is always cold within it. Cold and purity. Many creatures become still, as they look upon its icy image, as if something freezes deep inside their souls, stopping them from moving a muscle or turning their gaze away.
The young sorceress Kena gazed at the Moon, standing atop an icy peak of the tallest mountain of Gwarayn. Somewhere far below, the mountain slopes hugged rings of clouds. Beneath them, the first signs of forests began. And even further down – the first mountain settlements. It was very rare for a wolfen to climb so high. Even though at the top you are closest to the Moon, there is neither prey nor shelter here. Only to wolfens intimately connected to spirits – shamans and sorceresses – do these desolate, frozen heights call upon. Here they find solitude and spend days waiting for an audience with their goddess.
They those to whom the Moon speaks back are transformed. Or perhaps their souls simply become saturated with its cold light. They become ice sorcerers and sorceresses. What truly happens to them remains a mystery, but when they return, no living thing can withstand their gaze. Even the bravest knights on the continent freeze in terror, unable to move, if they meet the eyes of a single ice sorceress.
A month had passed, since the shaman’s disciple went off into the mountains. The elder sat at the campfire at the center of the village, deep in thoughts. The shaman sat a bit further, beyond the ring of light drawn by the fire. Another shadow approached him and sat quietly nearby.
– Did she speak to you? – The voice of the shaman was old and raspy. The elder turned to the sorcerers and squinted, examining the newcomer. Then grunted and turned back. Matters of the Moon’s chosen did not concern him.
– Yes. – There was a sour hue to Kena’s voice.
– This does not make you rejoice? it is a great honor for any shaman. Many a time have I climbed atop the white peak, but she was silent. It is said that she has not spoken to many generations now.
– And I know why she spoke now. There shall be war.
The elder turned to the shamans again.
– What did you say, girl?
A howl interrupted the conversation. The call of wolfens from Kaendyr. A call announcing the gathering of all the shamans from all the tribes.