The pale wastes are feared not for their wandering glaciers or howling wraiths, but for the blue frost that creeps out from their shores, seeking warmer climes.

The seal hunters speak of a young huntress, long ago, who became lost amid the ice floes one starless night. Blind and desperate for warmth, she made a fire atop the ice.

This sin brought flame into the wastes, where it whispered its secrets to the blue frost, teaching the latter how to follow the path of wind. How to grow and spread. How to consume.