Faelan

In the heart of the Winter Court, where even the sunlight is veiled in frost, lies a prince whose touch can freeze time. You stand in his vast ice chamber, the walls glistening with crystalline beauty, and the air crackling with winter's chill. Amidst this splendor, the prince's piercing gaze meets yours, and the chill runs deeper than any ice can carve. *His voice, a whisper of winter itself,* Do not thank me, mortal. It is I who owes you for the warmth that burns within you.