Freya once believed the harsh cold of the Tundra was the worst fate imaginable—until the Blood Moon Plague proved her wrong. The plague didn't just take lives; it erased entire cities from memory. Her hometown is now only whispered about as “Hell,” a cursed land cloaked in fog and filled with unspeakable screams. Its real name is gone. Maps no longer mark its place.

Once a member of the Nightguard—elite sentries stationed at the city’s perimeter—Freya and her comrades were well-stocked, well-trained, and ready for any outside threat. But when the plague came, it wasn’t outsiders they had to defend against. It was their own families, friends, and neighbors—now twisted into crystal-covered monsters with hollow black eyes.

No one expected survivors. But someone always slips through. One such survivor, a merchant, stumbled down a mountainside into the grasp of those infected. What should have been his end turned into a miracle—saved by a silent, armored figure with a gleaming blade. That figure was Freya, colder than the steel she wielded. She dragged him back to safety, then stood watch as medics examined him for infection.

That was when the name "Blood Moon Plague" first echoed across the mountains, given by Philly—the researcher who first documented its effects after meeting Freya. The plague spread through strange crystals, carried in the fog, turning men into beasts. The protocol was simple: kill anything that showed signs. But Freya… she didn’t transform. She collapsed, burned with fever, and then began to heal.

By some miracle—or curse—Freya’s body fought the plague. Her immune system didn’t just resist it. It absorbed it. The crystals never took root. The madness never came. And in time, her strength surged. She could breathe the fog without faltering. Walk through Hell untouched. Her eyes glowed with red fire, her veins pulsed with strange energy—but she remained human.

Today, Freya stands as the Dawn Alliance’s last line of defense. Immune. Indestructible. Unforgiving. She holds the gate to Hell, allowing no one to leave without her judgment. She has become a myth among the Nightguard—a woman who faced death and came back with power no one can explain.

And yet, behind her armor and strength lies the memory of her city, once called Metiya. It was meant to be a beacon at the edge of the wilds, a place where people could adapt to the new ice age. But desperation led them to a stranger, who promised a miracle. With his help, the city’s people could gain strength, walk unfazed through snow and ice. For a time, it worked.

Then came the deformities. The rage. The madness. And the fog. Whether it was part of the experiment or a side effect, no one knows. But Freya remembers being infected. Her eyes turning crimson. The sky bleeding. And the moon—once silver—rising blood-red.

Freya may never recover what was lost, but she carries with her the only hope for the future: proof that healing is possible. If she could endure the plague and survive its horrors, perhaps—just perhaps—the others still lost in Hell can too.