The Frost Moat

The air hangs heavy with the scent of ancient stone and something else… something akin to regret. It’s a scent born of slow decay, of centuries spent locked in a silent vigil. This isn't simply a landscape; it’s a memory solidified, a grief given form. I’ve come to the Obsidian Mire, a place whispered about in the oldest texts, a place where the boundary between worlds thins, and the echoes of forgotten gods still resonate.

The Frost Moat isn’t a moat in the conventional sense. It isn’t filled with water, but with a perpetual, iridescent frost. This frost isn’t merely frozen moisture; it pulses with a faint, internal light, a trapped luminescence that shifts between hues of violet, cerulean, and a disconcerting shade of bruised plum. It stretches, impossibly, across the valley, a shimmering barrier that seems to actively repel the sun. The stones lining its edges aren’t granite or basalt, but something…older. They possess a quality of solidified shadow, a density that suggests they were drawn from the very fabric of non-existence.

I’ve been studying the rituals performed here, the rites connected to the “Silent Ones.” These weren’t deities in the traditional sense; they were custodians of thresholds, guardians against incursions from realities beyond human comprehension. The Frost Moat, I believe, was their primary defense, a tangible manifestation of their vigilance. The closer you get, the more pronounced the feeling of being observed becomes. Not a conscious observation, but a subtle pressure, a sense of scrutiny that chills you to the bone, even through layers of thick furs.

Local legends speak of those who attempted to cross the Frost Moat. They invariably vanished, absorbed by the frost itself. Some say they were pulled into other dimensions, others that they simply ceased to exist, their essence becoming one with the shimmering barrier. There’s no trace of them, no skeletal remains, no even the faintest whisper of their passing. Only the frost remains, growing subtly wider with each passing cycle.