The first true spring of the new era did not arrive with a whisper; it arrived with the roar of a thousand melting glaciers.
For weeks after the fall of the Sapphire Throne, the North was a land of transition. The Frozen Sea had retreated, leaving behind a jagged, salt-stained coastline where new, strange flowers began to bloom in the tracks of the retreating ice. They were called Dawn-Lilies, their petals a shimmering gradient of Hallowed gold and sapphire blue. To the survivors, they were a sign of hope. To me, they were a reminder of the price paid in blood.
I stood on the highest balcony of the reconstructed Obsidian Fortress. The mountain was no longer a tomb of black glass. Under the direction of the Trinity, the Hallowed Army had used their combined strength to hollow out the debris, carving a city of stone and light that breathed with the warmth of the mountain's dormant volcanic heart.
