The handsome stranger led Eythora to the frozen northlands, where the brutal cold became her immediate teacher. Each breath was a sharp, stinging reminder of the frigid air's hostility, a stark contrast to her previous life. The sun-drenched desert where gentle breezes danced through her silver hair and warm sand yielded under her feet now seemed a distant dream. She was instead surrounded by a vast, icy landscape, dominated by towering, snow-capped mountains and dark, imposing pine forests. She endured for weeks, until the first snowfall of Tinuvel proved to be her breaking point. Without a word, she deserted the north and Emhyr, her guilt a weighty anchor as she plunged into the icy waters, swimming back towards the temperate isles.

She knew a farewell was owed but departures had never been her forte. Alone, she carried their child until his birth. Eythora, never one for nurturing, found herself captivated by the love for her son. A soft smile touched her lips and her heart swelled. Yet, she knew her wandering life was no place for him. When he was old enough to swim and be on his own, she journeyed north again, entrusting the child to his father's care.

With a promise and a kiss, she left.

─── ･ *.☽ .* ･ ───

The Islands called her, each a different world nestled under thick jungles, or deep in dense woodlands, or stretched in warm sultry sands. Her curiosity was insatiable, each island a promise of adventure. Satisfied for now, her eyes turned north once more. Excitement danced in her as she stepped once more on the cold pebbled shore. A blast of frigid air, an old, familiar shiver.

The dying sun offered a last, fleeting warmth before the world plunged into darkness. A silver of moon offered scant comfort beneath brooding skies, a warning of the impending storm. A low rumble in her chest as she pushed into the deep snow, her thoughts on her child's warmth. She sought signs of life in the failing light, her dark eyes scanning the night.

Hope filled her chest.