Unique Snowflake gleams in the palm, a six-point star of crystal that seems freshly chipped from winter's breath. Its surface is glass-smooth, threaded with silver frost and tiny, rune-like runnels that shimmer as you tilt it toward the candle. The edges catch the glow, refracting light into a quiet halo, and the whole piece feels cooler than a winter morning even when you're indoors. In the right light, you can almost hear the hush of a quiet snowfall, as if the snowflake remembers a night when the town stopped to listen. Locals tell of a night when a wandering star brushed the earth and poured out a thousand tiny stars, each landing in the hands of those who believed in preservation and memory. The Unique Snowflake is said to be one of those fallen lights, chosen to remind people of a promise—to keep stories intact even as seasons change. Some say it was carved by a frost-dwain artisan who traded warmth for beauty; others claim it grew from the first frost that clung to a temple bell. Whatever the tale, the Snowflake carries a cool authority, like a password to a memory only the winter can grant. In practical terms it is a rare, non-stackable token that players prize for what it represents more than its weight in coin. It often winds up in seasonal collections, traded through the toymaker's ledger and the festival's hidden paths, unlocking curios and occasional cosmetic surprises for those who chase the right set. People photograph them in shop windows, string them on a winter garland of gear, or slip them into a personal collection as a marker of a hard-earned journey through snow-dusted quests. For some crafters, the snowflake is a fuse—an ingredient in a micro-quest that opens a secret chest or summons a dusk-lit vendor, turning a lone wanderer's discovery into a world-spanning story. Prices drift as if carried by a light breeze. At the Saddlebag Exchange, where merchants barter under tarps slick with frost and the air is brushed with pine resin and cinnamon, the Unique Snowflake becomes a small test of taste and timing. A handful of silver, a few gathered winter tokens, or the right pairing with another seasonal keepsake can tilt the deal. It is not simply a transaction but a nod to a shared memory of storms and celebrations, a ritual that makes the item feel less collectible and more communal. That is the world the Snowflake helps to illuminate: a place where a single, glimmering shard can thread a story from a doorway into a village square, from a cold reception into a warm one, reminding everyone who holds it that even the smallest relic can carry a season's worth of conversation. So when the first snow falls and a trader lifts a sash at the market to reveal the glint of Unique Snowflake among others, it isn't just commerce—it is memory made tangible, a promise to keep the cold from erasing the warmth.