Tears of the Lost
We walked up the carved stone steps, the mist swirling endlessly about our feet. Before us loomed the Halls of Whitemist, weatherworn and majestic, lights flickering beyond the windows as servants readied in the early morning light. The cold clung to our bones, pierced our clothes with the ever present moisture of the land, but we knew warmth and safety awaited us at the top of the great stairs. The Halls were a haven, and the Baronness a generous host.