Princess of the Phrost (the miniseries): Creation

The Overworld

The people as a whole chose their own ruler from amongst the Zelarians since they were the first of their kind. After all he'd lost, he was given what many hailed the ultimate reward, he was now King Cyran. Cyran and Celaena had been gifted many lifetimes, they were the manifestation of their people's hope. The queen Celaena was described as a soft spoken, beautiful woman with rich espresso colored skin and hair the color of the earth. Celaena was a shapely, statuesque woman who came off a bit dainty but had proven that she could wield a shield and spear as well as any man. She had a long full frame, full lips, hair like wool and Celaena was also a gifted earth magic wielder.

Cyran and his wife were the first to fight back, they rallied their village and started the campaign to save themselves and their home. It was Cyran who organized the best of them and sent them out to save others. Aymon, his only child, lost his life. His wife, Celaena, made allies of the warlocks and saved blood drinkers from the sun. The now queen befriended the creatures of the night, she taught them to control themselves and in return they too aided in the Zelarians' cause. Everything they now had, everything they would become, was owed to Cyran and Celaena.

The Gods while understanding could not condone the creation of this new world leaving the seekers banished from ever returning to the Realm of the Gods. They were however given one last gift which they released to Cyran and Celaena; a small piece of what the Overworlders called "heaven". The extent of this gift was not explained, it could not be explained, the two were only told that when it was truly needed, they'd know. The gift left the new rulers with eyes the color of the sky above them.

"This land is yours, the two of you and the generations to come determines its fate" RaFea explained. The seekers decreed that the Overworld belonged to the Zelarian king and queen to rule over as they saw fit, as long as two rules were obeyed. The first was that they forgave the humans and let them go unpunished for their crimes against their kind. The second was to remember that the Overworld was a sanctuary for all inhuman creatures who wished to live and love in peace. "Finally, King Cyran, always remember that the rulers of this land and the land itself are one and the same. If you live for the light this place shall prosper, if you allow darkness to reside within your heart, darkness resides in this place. You shall find yourself right back where you started" RaFea warned. The three retreated to what was claimed as the Seekers realm, a space where only they were allowed to reside, resting in the center of it all. The place where they now watched over both realms.

The Overworlders thrived in their new home, Yshuuna. Their gifts grew stronger, they aged much slower and sickness was nearly nonexistent. The land they were gifted was rich for farming, the thick grass was like plush carpet beneath their bare feet and the trees seemed to touch the sky. This new world greatly favored their previous one but search parties enjoyed reporting new discoveries to their rulers. It was a joyful experience, having the ability to name new plants and animals, they found that everything in Yshuuna was alive and connected. It took decades to map but they explored it all, the depths of every valley and later they'd begun exploring the great waters. Centuries passed and their population greatly increased, the Overworld expanded, and the peace strained; along with it the king's power.

Eventually, the Drynians branched off forming their own kingdom in the South of the realm. The kingdom of Drynah was built across the clear sea on a sandy island, Qudm'Jsul, their capitol city was built at the base of an active volcano which powered both them and their city. Though Cyran and Celaena who lived in the North were to rule over all they'd chosen their own leaders. The Drynians were practitioners of fire magic who had skin ranging from raw honey to a beautiful bronze with hair said to be kissed by the very fire they wielded. The practitioners of earth magic had evolved shedding their earthly bodies and chose to live as spirits within the trees; they were now known as the Woodlanders keeping to themselves in the East. They too chose their own king. Those who'd fled to the Overworld but no longer wished to abide by Zelarian law, fled across the great waters and called it the Friiylnds. Instead of a king they were ruled under a council composed of representatives of each species. The rest of the Overworld described it as disorderly and boisterous. The north was the largest kingdom in Yshuuna, Fwl'Qudm, Zelaria's capitol was carved deep within the mountains, the castle, a beautiful intricate cavern system covered in polished marble and trimmed in gold. It was backed by a waterfall that flowed into the Endless River which ran throughout all of Yshuuna. Cyran often paced the castle's walls in silence, reflecting on the decisions that put him in his position, what those decisions cost him. He felt his people were betraying him, that they mocked him since after years of trying Celaena had yet to give him another heir. The Drynian king had sons, the Woodland king had sons, his own brother who while supportive Cyran felt silently waited for his fall. He believed his own son would be next in line. Cyran prayed to the gods, the seekers, the kingdom's healers and warlocks but nothing seemed to aid him. After starting a revolution, saving the world from the darkness, after losing his first-born son to the cause, the king felt owed another heir. He believed that he alone saved the world from savagery and death. After he'd given everything he had to give, Cyran felt he was denied the one thing he truly wanted. With no heir to his throne and the loathsome thought of his nephew assuming control of the kingdom he held dear, Cyran slowly began poisoning himself. Unknowingly welcoming the darkness into the lands, by welcoming darkness into his heart. Queen Celaena began noticing a change in the world around them with every failed attempt to provide the king with the heir he so desperately wanted. The child he felt he was owed, the legacy he felt he deserved. The woodlanders began falling ill, the ground produced no fruit, and the air became stale and frigid as if everything around them mocked their growing despair.

"My lady, the wards are weakening but it is not coming from the inside" Nabeh, a young warlock explained. Warlocks were only as strong as their fathers and Nabeh Sorciere was said to be the only spawn of the strongest ruler of hell; only second to the Dark One himself. Nabeh had skin like liquid copper, his soot-colored shoulder length locs contrasted beautifully against his skin but what captivated the masses were his bold silver eyes, along with his suffocating presence. Even as a child Nabeh struck fear into the heart of all he'd come across. A single tantrum could bring about the destruction of an entire village and after returning from hell's eighth realm and claiming his own demon, the warlock was a legend whispered in the wind. A god amongst mere men and had even surpassed his own father the demon lord Ma'ran. He and Celaena were good friends despite his very young age, and though Nabeh was not the warlock assigned to the crown she trusted him with her life. Nabeh himself created the original wards around the Frost and he was deeply concerned by his king's current emotional state. The warlock despite all his power had also tried everything he could to aid the rulers in the conception of a child, but the spells never took.

"I know not how to help him Nabeh, I've even encouraged him to take a mistress but-"

"My lady a bastard could never sit on the throne, not when there are other options" Nabeh interrupted, reminding her of the king's nephews.

"I shall do what I can about the wards, but I cannot repair his heart, your grace. The two of you will either be our saviors once again or bring about our doom" Nabeh warned, kneeling before her then making his exit.

One afternoon after yet another disappointing trip to the seekers tower, Cyran was intrigued by a strange pull he felt to the forest in the west. Just beyond the Seekers Realm to the west laid a place where the sun one day refused to shine, it was called Phrost. The Phrost was the place of punishment for lawbreakers and creatures native to the darkness who'd abandon their campaign for good. No matter their past the Overworlders refused to release criminals back to the Lesserworld to plague humans. The area had not always been frigid and dark but after centuries of harboring what the three kings felt were the worst of the Overworld's criminals it became polluted, so the warlocks sealed it off to prevent the evil from spreading.

The journey to the seeker's realm was not a swift one, and the king had grown tired of the travelling. Cyran was due to arrive home in a little less than a day but the curiosity about the call to the opposite direction won. Neglecting his guard, Cyran managed to sneak away in search of the summoner. He pushed his horned steed to the max, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the guard as he could before they realized he'd gone. After nearly a half day's ride and restraining his beast, Cyran hesitantly approached the wards. It had been years since he'd seen it up close, to be transparent and opaque it in its own way was beautiful. Light met darkness but the two didn't cross. The king's palms were sweaty, his heart raced, and his eyes were rendered useless as he crossed the barrier into the Frost. It baffled the king since the protection spells and warding were said to prevent anyone and anything from crossing, in or out. He couldn't fathom how he managed it but continued his trek. The air was unusually sweet, the aromas intoxicating, and in the darkness Cyran found himself crawling on his hands and knees combing the earth around him for the source until he was met by a beautiful witch he remembered well. Head of a lion, the tail of a snake, and a pair of glowing amber eyes.