Vannrik Rimewarden

Vannrik Rimewarden was the only healer in Zimovik, a small, isolated town deep in Hoarwood, Irrisen. With medical supplies scarce and the land locked in eternal winter, he relied on his knowledge of wild herbs—what little could grow in the frost-choked soil—to treat the sick and wounded. The townspeople depended on him, and he never turned away a patient, no matter who they were.   A short ten minutes from Vannrik’s home lay a round, frozen lake, its surface shrouded in an ever-present mist. The villagers called it the Mistlake, wary of its ghostly veil, but Vannrik often ventured there, drawn by the rare healing herbs that thrived along its icy shore. He never questioned why such plants grew in the eternal frost, only grateful for their existence.   One evening, as he gathered herbs in the fading twilight, a figure emerged from the mist—a Mistmaiden, her form shifting like the fog itself. She spoke in a voice that echoed like ripples on water, telling him that the lake’s mist was her doing, a gift to those who sought healing. Seeing his devotion to the sick and wounded, she offered to teach him the path to unlocking the Water Gate. But true mastery, she warned, would not come swiftly. Each dawn for a year, Vannrik returned to the lake, meditating by its edge and tracing unseen symbols upon the ice. Only through patience, perseverance, and an unwavering heart would the gate finally open, linking him to the endless flow of the Elemental Plane of Water. One day, a stranger came to his house, battered and frostbitten. She called herself Tuva, though Vannrik suspected it wasn’t her real name. She bore deep wounds along her limbs, unmistakably caused by ice magic—evidence of a battle against the Jadwiga or their enforcers. Though he knew better than to ask questions, he treated her wounds without hesitation.   The day after Tuva vanished into the woods, Vannrik left town to gather herbs, replenishing the stock he had spent on her. When he returned, his home was nothing but blackened ruins. He needed no confirmation—the flames had been a warning. He had made the mistake of healing an enemy of the Duchess of Hoarwood, Anelisha Elvanna. Now, he was a marked man.   With nowhere left to turn, Vannrik fled south, abandoning the only life he had ever known. His path led him far from the frozen north, toward the distant town of Sandpoint—where, for the first time in his life, winter would not follow at his heels.