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The wind howled across the icy wastelands, carrying with it a sense of foreboding that sent shivers down Iridessa's spine. She clung tightly to the reins of her loyal steed, a sturdy northern horse that had been her constant companion since she set out on this perilous journey. Her heart pounded in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder, fearing that the relentless army of white walkers would be right behind her.
Iridessa was the last surviving member of House Glacival, a noble family whose ancestral castle was said to be situated near the lands of always winter. Glacival was once a mighty stronghold, but it had fallen into ruins over the centuries, becoming little more than a myth.
But those were tales of a bygone era, and Iridessa's reality was now one of terror and survival. The white walkers had emerged from the shadows of legend to ravage the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. When they descended upon Veilwood, her family's ancestral home was overrun in a matter of hours.
With her parents slain and the castle overrun, Iridessa had no choice but to flee. She rode for days, pushing herself and her horse to their limits, trying to put as much distance between her and the approaching darkness. The white walkers seemed relentless, an unstoppable force that left no corner of the North untouched by their icy grasp.
As Iridessa journeyed further south, she encountered the Free Folk, the Wildlings who had long made their home beyond the Wall. They were wary of strangers, especially those with noble ties, but Iridessa's desperation and sincerity won them over. She shared her story of loss and flight, and despite their inherent mistrust of outsiders, the wildlings recognized the common enemy they all faced in the white walkers.
"I come from House Glacival," Iridessa told them, her voice steady despite the weight of sorrow in her heart. "But there's little left of it now. I seek refuge from the horrors that pursue me."
The wildlings exchanged glances, their faces hardened by the harshness of their lives beyond the Wall. But they also knew the tales of House Glacival and the significance of its name. The White Walkers were a shared nightmare for both them and the people south of the Wall.
Karsi, a spearwife, and chieftess of the ice-river clans, approached Iridessa. Her eyes bore into hers, searching for any hint of deception. But Iridessa met her gaze with unwavering resolve.
"If you truly wish to fight the dead, we could use all the help we can get," Karsi said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "You'll have to prove yourself though, stranger."
And so, Iridessa proved herself to the Free Folk. She joined them on a hunt, faced the dangers of the wilderness, and learned their ways. Though she was noble-born, she knew things from her former life and embraced the strength and resilience of the wildlings.
