There is a place where winter has no end, and grief has no mercy.
Beneath its frozen heavens, time forgets its rhythm, faith decays like old snow, and the gods linger—haunted by what they once created.

In this silence, the living dream of warmth while the dead remember too much. Shadows move beneath the ice, whispering of a child, of a name, of a promise never kept.

Frostmire is not a world—it is a wound that never closed.
A story of gods and mortals, memory and ruin, where truth freezes before it can be spoken… and even the light learns fear.