23 Ymiden, 716
Lour came to the realization that he’d been wandering corridors of ice for what seemed like breaks, and yet the hallways seemed to continue on forever. The thought came, unbidden ’This must be what eternity tastes like,’ but it was gone, fleeting, before Lour could think about it too hard. For some reason, he wasn’t worried by this fact. It just seemed to make sense that he’d be walking around these unfamiliar halls without another person in sight. His footsteps echoed before him and behind him, bouncing off the ice, which was polished and smooth and fitted together as if it had been built that way. Frowning at the noise he was making in the otherwise pristine place, feeling that he was disturbing the slumber of some long asleep beast, Lour tried to will it away. Shockingly, it did, and at that strange occurrence Lour stopped, surprised. Looking at his surroundings more closely, Lour noticed that the walls seemed to be glowing with an inner light, atypical especially seeing as ice didn’t usually shine that way without an obvious light source on the other side. Idly, Lour wondered if he could manipulate the walls in some way, given the talents of all his people at controlling ice. Concentrating intently, he tried to urge the walls to open up so he could see what was beyond them, but for whatever reason, they remained stubbornly closed. Indeed, at his efforts, the light dimmed somewhat, and Lour desisted, not wanting to be left in darkness.
Pulling at the reserves within him, Lour called ice into the world, carefully and cautiously forming it into the shape he wanted. Finally, a spear appeared, one of pure ice that had swirls and eddies up and down the length. Testing the weight and balance, Lour decided that it was good enough for now, when no danger threated. It was probably brittle in places, but he could always shore those up late.
Prodding at the walls with his spear proved to be ineffective as well. No matter how hard he jabbed or how fast he slashed, the ice remained untouched, unscratched, and unblemished. Not wanting to damage his own weapon, Lour gave up. The spear could double as a walking stick, which seemed appropriate for the setting and the scenario. At least all this ice would allow him to recharge his inner chill. Placing his palm on the ice, Lour drew its cold into himself, feeling replenished as he did so. However, in the middle of the process, the surface of the ice grew inexplicably hot, and Lour snatched his hand away.
Shaking his hand out, Lour watched as the ice flashed with light, brighter than even before, than dimmed back down. Shrugging with uncertainly, Lour started walking again, for lack of anything better to do. As he did, he tried to clear his mind and his head of distractions. Breathing deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, Lour tried to bring peace and calm back to his mind. But he kept returning to that hot flash, and worrying about what it might represent. Lour was so busy trying not to think of that moment and just keep his mind free that he completely lost track of his surrounding or where he was going.
That is, until he smacked headfirst into a wall.
The impact was strong enough to know Lour off his feet. They flew up beneath him and he ended up slamming into the ground, hitting his head again on the way. He dropped his spear, and it fell, clattering and rolling away from him. Actual stars, or perhaps they were birds, or perhaps both, starting orbiting his head and he followed him with eyes that seemed strangely slow. Oddly, he didn’t feel much pain, the ice instead feeling good on his suddenly heavy limbs. The moment seemed to call for something, though, so Lour let out a belated ”Ow.”