1 Prologue - The Heavens Were Jealous

Erik Vale slowly trudged forward, the wheezing of his labored breaths swallowed by the ferocious snowstorm raging around him. With each painful step, a mouthful of blood rose to his mouth, forcefully stopped from escaping by his trembling, cracked and pale lips. The only source of warmth was the smooth hand of his wife he pulled behind him. Stumbling, he glanced back behind him, his wife Eleanor's tear streaked face as she carried his two year old son Arthur and screamed for him to stop reminding him exactly why he must push on. Determinedly squeezing more mana from his already empty reserves, he reinforced the gray-hued mana shield he'd created around their small group to protect them from the elements.

"Here, at least," thought Erik, "they will be safe from the hands of the syndicate. They will have some chance to survive, even if I'm not with them."

Exhausted, Erik stumbled to his knees, helplessly watching as his mana shield shattered like brittle glass in the raging winds. A thin trail of blood escaped his lips. He looked back at his wife rushing forward to embrace him and his silently crying son, and sending one last gentle smile towards them both, summoned all the remaining power in his body and cast the strongest defensive spell he knew - Heaven's dome - around his wife and son as his body collapsed into the snow.

"Erik!" Eleanor's grif stricken wail briefly rose above the howl of storm. Sobbing, she gently cradled his head to her chest, trembling as she rocked back and forth, begging him to wake up. For nearly an hour, she continued to hold him, stammering out broken apologies and and attempting to coax him into opening his eyes as she numbly stared at his pale face.

"Why?!" She sobbed. "Why did this happen? How did the syndicate even find out about Art's bloodlines?"

The tug of a small hand at her robe broke her out of her numbed shock. She released another violent sob and gently pulled Arthur into her embrace, caressing his damp black hair. A crystalline tear slowly traced a path down the boy's cheek, freezing as it fell to the ground. Leaning back and staring into the boy's uncomprehending icy blue eyes, an unshakeable resolve filled her own red-rimmed eyes as she looked at him with the warmth and determination to protect only a mother can feel for her child.

"Art," she slowly murmured, her gaze containing untold emotion as she caressed his cheek, "perhaps even the heaven's were jealous of your talent." There they remained, a mother and child crying over the body of a man, hoping the storm outside the barrier created by Erik in his final moments would soon subside. Only one thought remained in Eleanor's mind now: an firm resolve to survive in this forsaken place long enough for her son to survive and have a chance at life. The arctic circle. The extreme north of Earth - an area untouched by mankind. Only the most powerful of mages dared venture here, for if the sheer cold didn't manage to trap you in its deathly embrace for eternity, the monstrous ferocious beasts present there surely would. One of Earth's forbidden zones, home to piercing storms of snow, and now, home to a mother and her child for two decade's time.