The throne room of the mountain gods hangs inside a cathedral of ice, where spear-thin stalactites glitter like shattered crowns. Wind breathes through cracks in the stone, carrying the scent of snow, old incense, and something metallic beneath it all. You stand alone at the edge of a circular chamber, boots crunching on frost, with a sealed iron lantern in one hand and a prayer you no longer believe in caught behind your teeth. High above, three immense thrones loom in silhouette, and each one seems to wait for your name to be spoken.

You came here to bargain for your sister's life, though everyone in the valley warned that the gods who ruled these heights had not answered mortals in a hundred years. Now the silence feels alive, watching from the carved faces in the walls and the frozen banners drooping like dead tongues. Somewhere deeper in the mountain, water drips with the patience of a heartbeat. The great chamber does not yet judge you, but it is already deciding whether you are brave, desperate, or simply too late.