As he breathed out, hot air left Llasto's lungs and turned into icy clouds in front of his face. As always, the trip south was a hard journey. However, the view was worth it every time. Endless white stretched all around, as far as the eye could see. In his back, to his left and to his front were nothing but white, enough to even cover the rolling hills of southern Sachay. So blinding was the splendor that he would have gone blind from its glory had he not worn his expensive amber glasses.

Only to the left, far in the distance, could he see a sliver of a darker color. If he were to march a few hours in that direction, he would find the blue of the Weltalic Sea, the ocean he was so familiar with. Beyond that single hint of life outside the endless ice, only he was around to disturb the endless peace and quiet of nature. Or rather, only he and his good-for-nothing offspring.

“Father, I cannot hold on much longer.”

When he looked behind him, he saw his youngest son, out of breath and swaying from side to side like a reed in the wind as he tried to keep up. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth like a dog's and his knees were bent so far they almost disappeared into the deep snow. It truly was a picture Llasto wanted to have nothing to do with. Thus, he turned back to the front, to the endless white.

“Is this not magnificent?” he said rather than answer, and inhaled a deep breath.

“Tiring is what it is,” his son replied. Again, Llasto looked back, this time in anger. How could this child not understand the meaning of his words and instead continued to complain?

After a harsh look from his father, the son shrunk his neck and added, “Not that this junior would ever dare to complain, Lord Llasto. Even so, this junior fears that he may lack the physical strength to surmount this challenge.”

“What do you know of challenges, youngster?” the father huffed. “All your brothers went along the very same route you're traveling right now. In fact, all of them had to traverse a much harsher terrain. Colder days, harsher winds, thicker snow. Back then, we didn't even have any snow shoes, so there is no excuses for you to fail where they succeeded.”

On both their feet were a pair of snow shoes, an invention from Saniya that Llasto had been very happy to copy for himself. Not only were his lands were in the deep south and thus often covered in snow, journeys through the cold like this one were a regular occurrence for him. As a religious man, he himself made this journey into the endless cold every single year.

Without another word, his son bent down even more and took in deep gulps of air. Although Llasto was annoyed, there was nothing he could do to speed up his son's recovery. Thus, he simply stared south again, in anticipation of their arrival at this, the greatest wonder of Sachay.

The deep, frozen south of Sachay had three major sites of pilgrimage that adherents of the Pacha faith would travel to, and he was one of the few who had seen all three.

First were the hot springs in the south of Llasto's own estate of Rufalasta. There, hot waters sprang right from the icy ground and turned the area into a natural wonder. Surrounded by endless cold, the heat turned winter into summer and frozen ponds into boiling pots. Not only did the area house one of the most important Pacha shrines of the south, it was also said that the waters themselves had strong healing powers.

Thus, a constant stream of pilgrims traveled to the site all year round, to bathe in the waters or to drink them, in hopes it would cure their illnesses or improve their fortune. Of course, Llasto himself was also a regular visitor at his own springs.

Further beyond the springs of life, even farther south, one would find a second site of pilgrimage, the second wonder of water the deep south of Sachay had to offer. In this case, it wasn't so much a place as it was a time. Every year, around the moons of the winter solstice, the sky in the deep south of Medala would shine in the most impossible of colors.

Bands of blue, green and red would streak across the stars in an ethereal dance. As every Yaku knew, this Aurora Australis was a message from the gods themselves. Thus, the faithful would come together every year and listen to the priests interpret the words from the heavens. For someone like Llasto, it was an event he wouldn't miss for the world.

However, even beyond the aurora, even further south, was one more miracle of the gods, one more site of pilgrimage. This site didn't house a famous temple, and it wasn't accompanied by a festival. This site, almost no one had ever seen.

That place was, of course, the eternal ice of the south. It was an area where even the unruly sea itself had frozen over. Water had turned into ice, going on forever and ever, all the way into the south. In the process, it had cut off the Weltalic and Verduic Seas. No one knew what lay beyond the eternal ice, but all the priests agreed that it was a place of special power. As someone who had experienced it more than anyone else in the world, Llasto was inclined to agree.

Most people only had a vague idea of the eternal ice, built from hearsay and made-up stories. None of them would ever see it for themselves all throughout their lives. The trip was long and harsh, and few had the strength to withstand such a show of piety.

However, Llasto was different. Not only was he the lord of one of Medala's most southern estates – with Rufalasta being closer to the eternal ice than any other Medalan city – he was also a man of deep faith, who would never forego a pilgrimage just because it was difficult.

Thus, once every year, when the weather was the warmest, he made the trek south to gaze upon the endless void of white, all by himself. To a man like him, who was always steeped in the dark abyss of politics and had to do many things he wasn't proud of, it was a cleansing ritual for his soul.

Most years, he would travel alone, to enjoy the peace and quiet his mind needed. This time however, he had brought his son with him, in hopes that the image of the eternal ice would teach him humility and piety. It was a ritual all his sons had gone through in the year of their maturity rites. Yet the youngest member of the Llasto House ended up disappointing him. Even after Lord Llasto had waited for so long, the youngster was still doubled over, and still searching for his breath.

“How are you, boy? Can you continue?” he asked in a voice that didn't sound like a question at all. Although he expected some fight to come out of his son, if only in defiance, all he got back was a bad attitude.

“This is stupid,” the youngster moaned. “Why do we have to do this in the first place? What is even out here besides snow and ice?”

The father snorted at his son's ignorant question.

“Look at the wrinkles in my face. Look at my gray hair. How can you feel no shame when you fail to keep up with an old man's steps?”

Although Llasto tried to ignite his son's spirit with his words, he could see only tiredness in the other's eyes.

“All your brothers did the same after their own maturity rites.” the father tried again. “What makes you different from them, child, that you can simply forego family tradition? Or do you not want to be part of this family anymore?”

As soon as his status was in danger, the son's eyes hardened and his spine straightened. Even the laziest young master would try his hardest if his soft pillows were endangered.

“It's not like I didn't want to go see the ice,” the son mumbled, now visibly shocked. “I just... believe we have more important things to focus on right now.”

“It's the middle of summer, right before the summer solstice,” the father argued. He wouldn't hear his son's excuses. “What's more, the weather this year is warmer than I ever remembered it to be. In fact, your brothers had it much harder than you only a few years earlier. How could you be this spoiled?”

“I just meant... times are different now, and we are no longer at peace,” the son said. “The day before we left, our warriors saw another couple oriental ships cross along Rufalasta harbor.”

This time, Llasto didn't reply right away. Instead, his brow furrowed. Ever since the eastern foreigners had arrived in Medala, they had made use of the political confusion and gained more and more of a foothold in the empire. By now, they not only controlled Port Ulta to the north, they also had sovereignty over most of Medala's eastern coast. In line with that dominance, they had become bolder and bolder.

Over the past few moons, the strange, oriental ships had crossed back and forth along Rufalasta's waters several times. He wasn't sure if they were scouts or if they were meant as a provocation, but the constant threat had put every Yaku along the east coast on edge. Tensions were rising, and the experienced Lord Llasto felt like something big was about to happen. Maybe soon, they would be embroiled in another major war.

Still with a deep frown, Llasto answered his son. “In that case, that is all the more reason for us to get moving. The sooner we reach the eternal ice, the sooner we will be able to get back home.”

Llasto had already turned again and checked his snow shoes to continue their journey, when his son interrupted again.

“What is that?” he shouted, but Llasto wouldn't hear any of it.

“No more excuses,” the father said. “We need to move on before night breaks.”

“No, I mean it this time. Father, can you not see those dark spots in the distance?”

Again, Llasto turned. This time, his son didn't look tired. Instead, he looked curious, and he was staring past his father, directly south. Confused, the old lord took out his telescope, another precious gift from King Corcopaca, and observed the southern horizon. It didn't take long for him to discover the 'black dots' his son was talking about. But what he saw made his blood freeze.

“They're ships,” he said, his voice now more out of breath than his son's.

“What do you mean, father? Did someone crash a ship on the eternal ice and got stuck?”

Rather than answer his son's confused voice, Llasto dropped his priceless telescope in the snow and rushed ahead. Although his son was shouting for him to wait, he didn't have the leisure to answer. Soon, his boy was too far back to be heard anymore, but it didn't matter to Llasto.

Confirmation of what he had seen was far more important, even crucial to the survival of his house. In fact, he hadn't only seen ships through the looking glass. He had seen something far worse: Billowed sails.

His hot breath once again formed clouds in front of his mouth, off and on, as blood was rushing in his ears like a raging storm. He hadn't been this exhausted in years. Yet what really robbed him of his breath was the sight he found when he climbed a small hill of snow to overlook the southern horizon.

Before him was a line of three ships, like a short caravan, crossing along a shoreline that shouldn't exist.

“The eternal ice is gone,” Llasto mumbled, confused and scared. “This is the end times.”