Moonsong Glacier [BOO] In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

A rising veil of fog answered his call, swallowing the eyes in a swirl of frostmist and shadow. Fjall felt his skin prickle, attuned to something his wisteria gaze could not firmly seize.

Mine, a voice rolled like thunder beneath the earth; he felt it more than he heard it. Mine!

All of Fjall’s hair was suddenly standing on end. Fear crinkled the corners of his mouth into a grimace and the whites of his eyes flashed towards the greenlit spark. His heart raced as the wind shrieked, raking across his body, pinning his ears flat. That searing greenfire spun ‘round him like webbing, and the yearling could only crouch down and cry out in a reverent plea.

I am nothing! I beg you! He had never experienced this force before, but he thought it must be the wilds, a great clashing of the spheres, come to claim those without faith. Yes, I am yours! I swear it!