You step through the first threshold and into the open world swallowed whole by the worsening storm. The sky is a churning void of black as the wind screams across the frozen expanse, snow and ice assailing you from every direction like needles. No sun, no horizon - only the endless howl of winter, as if the world itself has forgotten even the memory of warmth. The cold seeps deeper every moment, pressing through your fur and into your chest, forcing you to breathe shallowly as your vessels constrict and you struggle to stay upright.

But somewhere against the storm lies an answer. Mythris listens; the darkness waits. You feel it - your voice is not small here. The crackle of energy hums all around you, its power crawling up through the frozen pads of your paws until you feel it begin to expand and reach out to fill every inch of your shivering body until the shivering abruptly stops.

If you have the will, you can answer the storm. Call out to the buried sun and tear open the sky with your song; banish the Frozen Mourning, let the light in, and allow the earth to wake and bloom once more.