Echoes of Ancient Dragons

The wind on Frostveil was a relentless, howling beast, a constant reminder of the planet’s unforgiving nature. Lyra pulled her tattered cloak tighter, the synthetic fibers offering little solace against the biting cold. Each gust seemed to carry the ghosts of ancient screams, a symphony of suffering that echoed the desperation in her own heart. She, who had once known the sterile, controlled air of Alysia Prime, now breathed in the raw, untamed fury of a world frozen solid.

Beside her, Jax, a burly freighter captain with a gruff exterior and a surprisingly gentle soul, shielded his eyes against the swirling snow. His face, weathered by countless journeys across the star-lanes, was etched with concern. "You alright, kid? You've been quiet as a glacier for the last klick."

Lyra offered a weak smile, her teeth chattering. "Just… thinking. This place is a lot." She didn't mention the way the wind seemed to whisper Seraphine's name, or the chilling sensation that she was being watched, even here, in the desolate expanse of Frostveil. The Crimson Empress's reach was terrifyingly long.