Myrddin had been born out of the rape of his mother, Phaedra, by a demon. This demon, mad with grief and guilt had sought solace in the only thing his ethereal shape could still take pleasure in - sex. His mother, a devout creature who had lived alone, bore his painful birth alone, and died almost immediately after. Now, uncountably many years later, or at least, Myr's ancient mind could no longer recall how long, he was still troubled by the effects that his demon blood caused.

The old unicorn trudged thoughtfully into the snowy terrain - his old bones creaking almost as much as the frozen earth beneath his weight. Although he hadn't been in these lands long, he knew he would eventually die here - his days of roaming the earth were over. His journey here, had almost been too much. After the annihilation of his entire herd, it took every ounce of willpower he had, not to let himself lay down and die with them. He allowed only his heart to remain with them, to comfort their ghosts. Only his mind remained now - his cold philosophers mind. That is not to say that Myr had become cruel, only that he would never (could never) love again, in any capacity.

The white stallion moved to the waters edge - the sweat from his body rising up in bursts of steam as his temperature cooled. The silence of this place was calming; after having been on his own for several months as he ventured to Helovia, he was too used to being left alone with his own thoughts. Taking a step forward, he allowed the icy water to gently encompass his hooves, and then farther. The colt bit into his flesh, causing a burning sensation to race up into his shoulders. Myr leaned into the pain, and allowed it to overcome the arthritic creaks which had settled into his joints. He let all thoughts flow from his mind, only focusing on the bright white light which filled his mind. Soon, his legs were numb, and the feeling was quickly spreading throughout his old body. He sighed, dropping his head to just above the waters surface, to save his energy which was quickly being sapped by water, and his body's pathetic attempt to keep him warm.

Only now, as his mind emptied and the pain faded away from his consciousness, was Myr about to think clearly. To think about life and death, and what he would do next. deus nivis gratias tibi ego. [I give thanks to the God of Snow] Myr thought. He was not sure which gods presided over these lands, and his ancient mind was too used to the names of the Old Gods to be persuaded to call them something new, but in the end, it was all the same anyways. His body echoed the sentiment, as the biting cold ate away at the arthitric pain which etched his body, leaving only the bright white pain, which he could more easily manage.