In the farthest reaches of the world, beyond the last green valleys and under a sky that never shed its pale, frigid light, there was a realm locked in eternal winter. This was Ivernale, a kingdom that had not known the warmth of spring for a thousand years. The snows fell endlessly, and the wind roared like a wild, restless spirit. At the heart of this frozen empire stood the Winter King, a solitary figure whose name was whispered only in fear.

The Winter King’s castle was a colossal fortress of ice, its spires reaching into the clouds like the claws of some long-dead giant. The walls shimmered in hues of blue and silver, an eerie beauty masking the cold cruelty that lay within. From this fortress, the Winter King ruled. His presence stretched across the land like a suffocating blanket of frost, turning rivers to ice and freezing the forests until they were nothing more than skeletal remains.

But the Winter King had not always been the cruel master of a frozen wasteland. Once, Ivernale had been a land of life and abundance, with rolling green hills and rivers that sparkled under the summer sun. In those days, the man who would become the Winter King was a noble prince named Caelan, beloved by his people for his kindness and strength. The kingdom thrived under the gentle rule of his father, King Rodric, who fostered peace and prosperity.

A fierce and unnatural storm swept across Ivernale, bringing with it a chill that no fire could warm. The crops withered, animals perished, and the people huddled in their homes, praying for the storm to end. It was in the midst of this chaos that a dark sorceress arrived at the gates of Ivernale’s castle, promising salvation. She offered Prince Caelan a terrible bargain: the power to save his people from the storm in exchange for his soul.

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