The man knelt before the ancient snow, his broad shoulders lowered as the cold wind brushed past his body. His face carried nothing but pain. It had been too long since he last saw this place, so long that even he had almost started to believe he would die without ever returning here.
Before him, thick ice stretched across the ground like a frozen wall, and deep inside it, something massive loomed in silence. Even buried under all that snow and ice, the pressure coming from it had not faded. It still pressed against his blood, reminding him of who he was, and what the Ice Dragons had lost.
"Progenitor, your child, Henry, son of Dravik, has returned to your side..." His voice came out rough, quieter than usual. "Has the frozen heaven been treating you well?"
He pressed his forehead against the ice, allowing himself a moment of silence.
