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\f0\fs24 \cf0 Day after day of blinding white might be enough to drive most men mad. I am not a man. Whether or not I'm mad... only the eternal white stretching in all directions can answer that. I've traveled this cursed tundra for ages. I've seen empires come and go. I've seen people live and die. Thousands of times.\
\
The air is thin here.\
\
The land is dry here.\
\
Nothing can be born, nothing can grow. Everything can die. I would say that I'm the exception to that, but I have no proof that I'm alive. So maybe I died.\
\
If I died, this world is one uninteresting afterlife. It's full of people, people just like any I can remember. Going about their lives. They're not dead, they're not like me, ethereal and invisible. They're
\f1\i human
\f0\i0 .\
\
Either way, I see the world with one eye. Humans have two eyes. Some of the creatures native to the snows immediately north of here have six or even seven eyes. What I see when I look at the world is a perfect circle. Across the middle, there's a blurry line where gray-white turns to blue-white. Below the line is the land, desolate and inhospitable. Above the line is the sky, inviting save for its brightness.\
\
After millennia of boredom pass, boredom itself becomes a bore. Yes, it was fairly amusing at first, to wander the tundra aimlessly, thinking about myself and the land. But. After a while, it got old. After millennia pass, I become tired of seeing civilizations popping up and disappearing. I don't understand what people see in this wasteland. I overheard once, some words carried on the wind. One human telling another a story about the South.\
\
The midlands\'d1that's what the humans call the lands north of the northern snows\'d1are war-torn. Humans living comfortably in hospitable climates seem unable to remain at peace. Perhaps they seek entertainment just as I do. If so I can't fault them. But. The humans who try to "escape" the midlands\'d1the humans who try to leave their lands and people behind in order to avoid human conflict\'d1are worthy of every known insult in every language and then some.\
\
They come
\f1\i here
\f0\i0 , to the
\f1\i South
\f0\i0 , seeking comfort and pleasant days!\
\
They come
\f1\i here
\f0\i0 , to the
\f1\i South
\f0\i0 , seeking a better life!\
\
This is what entertained me for millennia. Eventually, even the folly of humans lost its interest. I tried reaching out with my voice. A hero from the northern lands of Harnecia heard me and asked me to talk to him. I told him everything I knew\'d1that I was an eternal spirit and that I could neither die nor leave the tundra to which I was confined. He believed me and swore allegiance to me. I became a god. I gained two ears, two eyes, a body full of senses. I was still the intangible spirit of the southern wind, but I had this hero in addition to my timeless self.\
\
Soon thereafter, a second pair of eyes opened and I could see five worlds. My heroes showed me the lands north of my tundra. They showed me forests and clearings, plains and hills, mountains and deserts. They showed me war, that game that made the midlands so inhospitable to some.\
\
I told them that I wanted to play in this human game, and they obliged me.\
\
Every once in a while, another pair of eyes opened.\
\
Every once in a while, the owners of these pairs of eyes visited me. They braved the snows between here and the midlands and they came to me with news and energy. They wanted more orders, more commands. They wanted to know what to do next, for me.\
\
I played the game of war well.\
\
I was proud of myself. I was glad for my heroes.\
\
Nothing lasts forever, though. After some number of years\'d1an awfully short period, from my point of view\'d1I grow bored once more. Human games were interesting for even less time than contemplating my existence was. They were interesting for even less time than examining the barren tundra was. \
\
My eyes are numerous. They're omnipresent. There's nothing I can't see. There's nothing that I can't do.\
\
The only thing I can't do is end my endlessness.}