Lying far to the southwest of Egjora, a frigid isle marks the outermost fringes of civilization. Itjivut is a frozen wasteland to some, but a precious home to others. The northern end of the island is warmer, and a spruce forest marks where the ocean currents bring warm winds. Further south along the coast, the mysterious Hiafae dwell within their city of Hiadref. They are welcoming to visitors, though within their own rules. It is also a home to many nomadic human tribes, who dwell in the cold with a rugged stoicism. The human tribes love receiving visitors, and often their aid is the only thing that keeps intrepid explorers alive.

Long ago, Hiadref was the crowning achievement of the Hiafaen civilization of Ice elves, a proud center of trade, elemental magics, and the arts. But as empires do, it fell. It is uncertain as to what happened. Some attribute the fall to a civil war, while others blame demons. Regardless, the survivors of Hiadref were scattered across the world, and for a long time, the city was left in ruins. Hiadref's temple is the greatest of the buildings still standing, surrounded by the decaying husks of markets, homes and other buildings.

Recently, however, some of the Hiafae returned to their home to rebuild. With persistence, they have flourished. As the docks were rebuilt and the buildings restored, trading with the outside world resumed. Their port now serves as an entry point for those wishing to explore further inland. New buildings were raised as well, delicate constructs of ice and magic. Considered by many as a beautiful wonder, the entire city shines like the aurora when the sun hits at just the right angle.

Unfortunately for the elves, however, this reconstruction was not a return to their glory days, even if some of their ranks are unwilling to admit it. They hold onto what remains with a grim determination, trying to relive their past. Others are more realistic. It is whispered that they trade for human slaves, both for purposes of work and as a delicacy. Slaves can be found working the reis fields that lay outside of the rebuilt city, moving goods through the streets, and carrying out menial tasks. The city's main exports include oddities like reisgwin, packaged glamours, the captured last words of poets, as well as many other Hiafae specialties.

Outsiders, or eštrae, as the Hiafae call them, are allowed into the city, though the city’s guard keeps them in the trade district. Any eštrae found in other areas of the city are forcefully escorted out. Any who are found within the ruins, however, are also detained for thorough questioning. Not all of these stragglers are allowed to return to the trade district immediately, either, and some are held for great lengths of time in order to be interrogated.

Despite their detainment practices, however, the Hiafae are wise enough to not damage their relations with trading partners. Beyond the guard, the city has little in the way of an organized military: a fact that serves to open trading borders significantly. Likely raiders should be wary, though, because many of the Hiafae are former mercenaries, sailors, and even pirates. They will defend their home to the last breath.

In the middle regions of Itjivut, wild caribou and polar bears roam, as do nomadic human tribes. They call themselves the Rafandi, and herd their tamed caribou, and scavenge for plants to supplement their diet. Lichens, dwarf willows, cottongrass and other plants feed the caribou, while the Rafandi harvest bearberries, tubers, and rare plants to trade with the Hiafae for their reis. They pitch tents of hide when stationary camps become necessary in the frigid tundra, and a handful of permanent campsites can be found scattered throughout the Wildlands. It is rumored that some of the Rafandi are shapeshifters, but the people themselves refuse to give a clear answer to outsiders.

Beyond the Wildlands, the isle grows more mountainous and arid. Sunlight grows dim, and nothing grows. Nothing natural can survive here, and exploration becomes nigh impossible. There are rumors though, of tunnels that are too perfect to be naturally carved and of distant screams echoing up from the depths. Nothing is ever found by following these noises, however.

The Hiafae speak of a people that dwelt on Itjivut before they came, of a cruel, merciless race that used blood sacrifices to aid their survival. When pressed, the elves assure others that those people are long gone, but they still caution visitors to not seek out the rumors of the icy, dark southern reaches.