The Long Night's Shadow

A faint mist crept over the frozen tundra, shrouding the vast expanse of white in an eerie veil. In the midst of this desolate landscape, a lone figure emerged from the darkness. Her name was Aethera Snow, a bastard daughter of the North, forged in the crucible of the harshest of winters. Her eyes, a piercing shade of grey, seemed to gleam like the stars on a clear night as she traversed the icy terrain with a purpose that belied her tender years. Aethera's raven hair was tied back in a tight braid, revealing a face that was both beautiful and battle-hardened. She wore a thick, dark grey cloak with a fur-lined hood, cinched at the waist with a leather belt adorned with tiny, intricate trinkets that jingled softly as she moved. The cloak billowed behind her like a dark cloud, and the air was filled with the scent of leather, fur, and the faint tang of snow. As she walked, the crunch of her boots on the frozen ground echoed through the stillness. She had been traveling for days, driven by a restlessness that had been building within her for months. The whispers of a gathering darkness had reached her in the farthest corners of the Seven Kingdoms, and Aethera felt an inexplicable pull to the frozen north, to the land of her ancestors. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of smoke and woodsmoke on its icy breath. Aethera's ears perked up, and she quickened her pace, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her sword. She had been tracking a small group of travelers for hours, and the smell of their campfire was a welcome respite from the biting cold. As she crested a small rise, Aethera caught sight of a small encampment below. A fire crackled in the center of the clearing, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding trees. Three figures huddled around the flames, their faces lit by the warm glow. Aethera's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of the travelers: a young couple, no more than twenty winters old, and an older man, his face grizzled and weathered. Aethera approached the camp cautiously, her sword at the ready. The travelers looked up, startled, as she emerged from the darkness. The young woman gasped, her hand flying to her husband's arm, while the older man rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he took in Aethera's battle-hardened appearance. "Who are you?" the older man demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. Aethera smiled, a small, enigmatic smile. "I am Aethera Snow," she said, her voice low and husky. "And I mean no harm. May I join you by the fire?" The travelers exchanged a wary glance, but the older man nodded, gesturing to a vacant spot by the flames. Aethera sheathed her sword and sat down, her eyes never leaving the faces of the strangers. As she warmed her hands by the fire, she felt a sense of unease growing within her. There was something about this chance encounter that didn't feel right. And Aethera Snow was not one to ignore her instincts.