The Hidden Hybrid’s Redemption
"Lyra... the mountain... it's waking up."
Before I could ask what his wolf sensed, a sudden, deafening crack echoed from the high peaks above us—a sound like a localized thunderclap that made the massive timber frame of the sled violently shudder.
It wasn't an avalanche.
The vertical ice wall of the glacier to our right suddenly fractured, a massive fissure ripping open along the blue face of the ice. From the dark, freezing depths of the newly opened chasm, a towering, serpentine silhouette emerged, its scales made of pure, translucent ice that caught the dim light of the storm. It was a Frost-Wyrm of the high rifts—an ancient, territorial leviathan that had slept beneath the glacier since