The cold in the room felt different now.
Not the simple bite of winter air—but something deeper.
Noel stood straight on the crimson carpet, his gaze steady, knowing that every word mattered here. Lady Vaelora von Iskandar regarded him from her throne of beast bones, one hand resting lazily near the massive axe at her side. Selene stood silent to her right, her posture rigid, her gaze downcast.
Noel inhaled slowly, voice calm.
"I need access to Frostspire Peak. I hope you will grant it, Lady Vaelora von Iskandar—Mistress of the North."
For a brief moment, only the crackle of torches answered him.
Then, a low chuckle escaped Vaelora's throat. Her eyes gleamed like shards of ice.
