Tell me, my young student, is it that you do not understand or that you do not wish to see?
Ours is a world of opposites. For every one thing, there is another. Dark and light, moon and sun, life and death. What, then, do you suppose to be the opposite of fire? Ice?
No, fool of a student. Fire is the action, Smoke the result. In the same way, ice is not the action. The opposite of fire is frost. Frost is the action, ice the result.
See you, yet, how our universe is flawed? Broken from the beginning, when the Father of the Gods bestowed his gifts on his first two sons.
Fire to Arkon, his firstborn. What use has the Lord of Order for the chaotic maelstrom that is fire? What is fire if not chaos, consuming everything it touches, tearing all things asunder, changing that which was into that which was not?
Frost to Kane, his second. What use has the Lord of Chaos, the Master of the Forge, for frost - infinitely silent, locked and frozen, beautiful, precise, untouched by time?
One granted the sun, for which he has no use, the other the moon, for which he has no patience.
For many years, I have tried to teach you. I see it is to no avail.
Our time is at an end. The Godsong has two parts: The Song of Creation, music that flows and shifts with the power of Chaos, and the Words of Power, unchanging incantations of Order that bind our world together.
Seek a new master. Perhaps your wandering intellect would do better with the former. It is clear you have no the mind for the latter.
She plucks a rose from the bush, then turns to regard him. Snow falls gently in the courtyard, frozen statues are silent witnesses to their conversation. She blows on it, lightly, and white ice appears along the stem. The color drains from each petal, leaving a flower made of crystal or perhaps of frosted glass.
The student looks up from his studies, rubs his eyes in the faint candlelight that touches on the book-lined walls around him. With a word, the water leaps from the bowl, spinning and crystalizing into the shape of a dragon. He smiles and leans back, comfortable that his skills are improving.
Frostweavers are wizards who practice the magical art of Cryomancy; they harness ancient words of power to drain heat, freeze water and to shape ice and snow. A natural counterbalance to the art of Pyromancy, Frostweavers have ascended in power and renown since the death of Gaea. For reasons unexplained, when a world begins to feel the effects of the Hunger, it inevitably begins with the onset of an unnatural winter.