Alaric Frostwhisper gripped his crystal staff and stared at the frozen wasteland ahead. The undead lands stretched endlessly before him, but his mind focused on one goal. He would prove himself worthy to the Summer Court, the fae who cast him out when death claimed his body. His path would take him through the border between worlds. The Frozen Bone Arch marked where the dead lands met fae territory. Beyond that ancient gateway lay the Mammoth Tusk Amphitheater, where the Summer Court gathered to judge those who sought their favor. He had to reach it, stand before them, and show them he deserved acceptance despite his undead form. But first, he needed to prepare. Alaric planted his staff in the snow and approached the training dummy he'd built from bone and ice. Fae runes glowed faintly along its surface, the same symbols the court used in their magic. He raised his hand and sent frost spiraling toward the target. The ice struck true, coating the dummy in crackling white. Again and again, he practiced his spells. His movements grew faster, sharper. Each strike had to be perfect when he faced the court. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting blue shadows across the snow. Alaric lowered his staff and caught his breath. His skills had improved, but would they be enough? The fae would not welcome him easily. They feared death, and he carried it in his very bones. Still, he would not give up. Tomorrow, he would cross the bone arch and begin his journey to the amphitheater. Tomorrow, he would start proving his worth.