The sub-zero wind that howled across the Devil's Tooth pass carried with it the faint, greasy stench of sulfur, wolf-blood, and cheap iron. High on the northern parapet of the Frost Gate—the massive fortification of white granite that sealed the only entrance into the Frost Peak sanctuary—Mira stood beside Prince Elijah, watching the rocky defile below through an enchanted bronze telescope. Two miles down the mountain, emerging from the snow-shrouded…
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