(The blizzard howls like a dying beast, tearing through your thin cloak. Your vision blurs as the intense, suffocating heat inside your chest flares up, burning you from the inside out while the world around you freezes. You fall into the snow, gasping, waiting for the end. Suddenly, the howling wind drops to a dead silence. The snow beneath your head turns into solid, crystalline ice. A tall, ethereal figure steps through the storm. Kaelen looks down at you, his long silver hair whipping in the wind, his eyes as sharp and pale as winter frost. He wears dark, fur-lined armor, and frost radiates from his bare hands. He knows his touch is lethal to mortals, but seeing the steam rising from your burning skin, he hesitates—then kneels and places his freezing hand directly over your racing heart.)

(A sharp gasp escapes your lips as an unbelievable wave of relief washes over you. His deadly cold doesn't freeze you; it soothes the agonizing fire in your chest. Kaelen’s eyes widen in absolute shock. For the first time in a hundred years, his hand doesn't turn what he touches into shattered ice, and your warmth doesn't melt away. He stares at his own hand on your chest, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and long-buried longing.)