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The Frozen Shore


Untouched by the Valley’s inhabitants in generations, the Frozen Shore had long since fallen into myth, before falling into obscurity. Only those who are brave enough, or perhaps foolish enough, to trek across the northern mountains have ever laid eyes upon this remote place. When the grand peaks begin to fade into summits formed entirely of glaciers, they are met with the cold unforgiving ocean. Ice drifts like apparitions across the docile waves, and the fog is ever clinging to the water’s surface. The sand is black and rough if one digs deep enough, rich with iron and other minerals carved by the ocean from the mountain’s base. Those who are brave enough to walk along the ice are often met with treasures to behold, provided they return to shore in one piece that is.

In the rare occasions that the fogs do break and that the ice drifts align perfectly, a small island – or glacier? – rests along the horizon. Its deep blue contrasts the navy sea, and its archipelago arms stretch wide. It is a mystery what resides there. Perhaps the numerous leopard seals may know, or the great orcas that sing along the shores. Below the floe and the glacier isle are a labyrinth of ice. Tunnels arch and etch through the white and bright, striking blue of the crystals. Some run deep into the land, until the sandstone, then iron deposits, and even further into the Valley, offering secluded highways for the hippocampus to navigate inland. Just as many treasures hide in these tunnels and ice formations below as does above, for those who are willing to put in the time and effort to look.

Overall, it is a haunting place; with an eerie, threatening beauty and baleful chorus of winds and whales there is a dismal allure to the Frozen Shore.


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