Hyperborean mountains are formed of pure hematite, with veins of naturally occurring steel sprawling throughout their interior. Some of the grandest peaks reach as far as the ionosphere, slicing the northern lights in two as they pass overhead. Their bodies resist climbers and prospectors as easily as they resist the wind, but erosion and entropy always find a way.

The glaciers here are not what they at first seem to be. Those who gaze long enough into their translucent surfaces can faintly see their inner workings hammering away on the ground below, thousands of cogwheels and pistons aggressively chewing away at the world. Their concealed mechanisms can be heard throughout the whole of the range as a dull and percussive pulse.

The glacial ice has alloyed with the iron below in a poorly understood chemical reaction that leverages the aurora borealis itself as a catalyst. Despite its appearance, it does not easily melt, and is sometimes as hot as a coal furnace to the touch. Occasionally the engines within become overloaded, causing eruptions of molten metal and explosive steam.

These mechanical glaciers and the mountains that they swallow have evolved in unison, predator and prey. Some day, however, a magnetic desert of metal sands is all that will remain.