Twice an age has passed since the last great winter faded from memory, twice an age since the races of Equestria took their first steps from their shelters and tasted air ripe with the warmth of Spring.

The time of the Founders has long since passed and with them, the memory of bitter cold and harsh winds. The fearsome Windigos, eldritch beasts of hate and hoarfrost, reduced to mere bogey ponies. Tales told by mothers to frighten errant children. Those who once stood sentinel against the coming frosts, the Northknights, brave individuals of all races, have faded into obscurity along with their purpose. Protective eyes, now long dark in their graves, no longer watch the northern horizon.

The years have grown colder. Spring arrives later and later, and lasting only the blink of an eye. The bitter winds howl down from the highest peaks like the wails of banshees, stirring memories long forgotten. In an attempt to alleviate their worries, the Princesses dispatch their brightest minds and bravest hearts to restore connections to the Crystal Empire, now lost to Equestria behind driving blizzards and grinding glaciers. And yet, one sister cannot shake darker thoughts. Thoughts of hooves, frost-rimed and black, and ragged winds like howls from mountain tops.