Menelwen Frostrill
the Rimewarden
Named for the first breath of winter that turns the high lake to silver glass, and for the small, persistent stream that cuts through it.
You can draw the cold from water into yourself, leaving it still and cloud-pale, and hold that cold in your blood until you choose to release it as a wall of freezing fog. It costs you the warmth of a season each time, and you cannot do it twice in a single turning of the moon.
- Familiar
- A white marten named Spindle
- House
- House Coldmere
The day the spring thaw did not come, you were six decades old and standing at the head of the Frostrill, watching your mother's face go still. You put your hand into the water and the cold did not just touch you—it answered you. The stream stopped flowing, silvered over from source to mouth, and silence fell so deep you could hear the mountain’s bones creak. That was the first time you knew your name was more than a name.