by Bill Tiepelman
The Guardian of the Northern Myst
In the heart of the eternal winter, beneath the celestial ballet of the aurora borealis, rests a forgotten realm where time whispers through the frost-laden trees, and the very air is steeped in enchantment. This is the domain of Sorenthar the Ageless, the venerable guardian of the Northern Myst—a mysterious expanse veiled in secrets as old as the cosmos itself.Sorenthar, clad in armor wrought from the essence of winter’s might, stands as a sentinel, his presence as unyielding as the mountains that cradle the horizon. He is the keeper of tales untold, a warrior cloaked in the silence of snow, his eyes reflecting the depth of ancient wisdom. His realm is a tapestry of legends, where the trees murmur in forgotten tongues and the ground remembers the footsteps of gods.Perched with noble grace behind him is Drathenor, the magnificent dragon, his scales shimmering with the aurora’s glow. The dragon’s wings, vast and powerful, are rumored to have been crafted in the heavens, kissed by the northern lights and woven with the threads of night. Drathenor’s breath, a tempest of ice and wind, wields the power to reshape the very fabric of reality.As darkness shrouds the land, Sorenthar takes his watch, the Frostsword in hand. The ancient blade, encased in eternal frost, holds a core of winter’s fiercest chill, its edge a sliver of the night’s piercing cold. The sword's haunting luminescence pierces the shadowed wilderness, a beacon for any who dare to traverse the frozen wastes.The legends speak of Sorenthar and Drathenor as the guardians at the gateway to a realm of boundless magic, where the spirits of the woods sing in harmony with the raw elements of nature. Adventurers and seekers of arcane knowledge have long been lured by the promise of the Northern Myst’s hidden powers, yet none have returned to tell the tale, their fates entwined with the very mysteries they sought to unveil.On this fateful night, the aurora swells to a resplendent crescendo, painting the sky with vibrant hues of an otherworldly storm. Sorenthar senses a profound shift in the air, a prelude to the awakening of an age-old prophecy. The winds carry whispers of destiny, and the guardian steadies himself for the unfurling of events foretold in epochs past.With Drathenor at his flank, Sorenthar stands not merely as a protector but as a beacon of constancy against the tides of time. Here, beneath the stars’ eternal gaze, each snowflake carries a tale of yore, each gust of wind an echo of the past, and each shimmering light a harbinger of the mystic unknown. Together, they wait, the guardian and the dragon, for the prophecy to manifest, ready to defend the Northern Myst or to embrace the dawn of a new era written in the annals of the ancient winter sky.
