Masters of arts and crafts from all over the land of Adornia were gathered for the great exhibition. Sighs of admiration were heard everywhere. But at one booth, the visitors left shrugging their shoulders. “Birds are beautiful in the heavens, and flowers, in the garden,” they said. Blizzard, a young sculptor, listened to them humbly, her eyes downcast. “But the birds fall, and the flowers fade. I make them perfect,” she protested. “Perfect? These chunks of ice?” laughed one critic. “Yes! And you would be perfect yourself if you would just shut up!” Blizzard couldn’t take any more. The critic was immediately encased in a pathetic pose, transformed into a glistening ice sculpture. Everyone had to admit that the new look suited him. Fortunately, after an hour had passed, the man, frightened and frozen, came to his senses. “You’d freeze a man to death? Then I know where you can find some admirers...”

 

So Blizzard went to war. There, her art won her the immediate admiration of her allies, and she has never suffered from a shortage of material for her beautiful statues.

Cryo loved to watch the snow. She was fascinated by blizzards and delighted by ice crystals. Cryo has always been considered beautiful, but her haughty coldness extinguished the hottest passions of any suitors. Very few even dared to invite her to dinner. Those who dared have many strange stories to tell: in her presence, fires quickly go out and wine quickly turns to ice.

 

Her skin shines as white as snow, and her soul is cold and treacherous, like snow-capped mountain ranges.

 

Cold attracted Cryo more and more over the years. In the place of a wedding gown, she wore a student’s robe. The Prime, particularly the effects low temperatures have on it, were of special interest to Cryo.

 

Once, one of Cryo’s experiments burst out of control. The power of the Prime was released and flooded the laboratory with unbearable cold. When the ice shell around her was broken, Cryo showed no signs of life. She had been transformed into a beautiful snow sculpture. Fortunately, a nearby student was the youngest son of one of the lords. He was familiar with heroes, and discovered in the many fragments a crystal of unusually regular shape.

 

The student suggested that he perhaps held a Catalyst in his hands, and he was correct: the crystal, when placed in a Prime Inductor, brought the dead girl back to life.

 

But she had no interest in teaching classes and workshops. Cryo had become sharp and powerful, and would take no excuses for failure. Naturally, she chose the path of a warrior.