Snowqueen Icedragon !!exclusive!! Site

We do not need to burn brighter. We only need to wait. For even stars grow tired. Even suns go dark. And when the last ember sputters and dies, who will rule the echo?

We will.

The wind does not lie, old serpent. It carries the scent of a thousand dying hearths. You feel it too, don't you? That faint, rotten sweetness of embers. It clings to your scales like a fever. snowqueen icedragon

They think we are the enemy. The warm ones. They pray to their sun gods and stoke their bonfires, believing that light is good and cold is a slow death. Fools. Heat is chaos. It is frantic, desperate movement. It makes blood boil and nations crumble into war. Heat is the lie that change means growth. We do not need to burn brighter

We who are the question mark at the end of a frozen universe. We who are the deep, quiet answer. Even suns go dark