Frostveil's Frozen Fury

The descent into Frostveil was a brutal affair. The shuttle shuddered and groaned, a metal beast battling against an invisible titan of wind and ice. Lyra pressed her forehead against the frigid viewport, watching the swirling white chaos outside. It wasn't like the manufactured blizzards of Alysia Prime's simulation domes; this was raw, untamed fury. Every gust felt like a physical blow, the snow a relentless, blinding tide.

“Almost there,” Jax’s voice crackled through her comm unit, strained by static. He was the grizzled smuggler who’d agreed to ferry her this far, his eyes constantly scanning the icy expanse below as if expecting dragons to erupt from the glaciers. “This planet is a bitch, kid. Hope you know what you’re doing.”

Lyra tightened her grip on the worn armrest. “It’s the only lead I have, Jax. The data fragment from the King… it pointed here. Something about ancient shelters.” She’d spent the jump poring over the fragmented whispers of Orion Valerius’s final message, the King’s desperate plea encoded directly into her DNA Chip. It spoke of refuge, of a place where Seraphine’s reach might not extend.