"Hunt them... the evil... Destroy...ers..."

A lost soul, the village he called home ransacked by uncaring invaders. Returning from a hunt he found those he held dear torn from him, all those he had known.

He became broken, trapped in a corner of fear and hate.

He rebelled, and brought forth all the strength within.

The once green forests became prisons of ice, prisons for those who stole everything from him.

But this power does not come without cost, intensifying the frigid aether within him to such frightening heights causes even the body to become afflicted with permanent protrusions of frozen spires, the ice is as flesh.

The mind breaks, the sheer cold affecting mental process. He lost most sense of self, gripping onto only the most vivid memories; thoughts of home, thoughts of protection, thoughts of hunting those responsible.

And now any that dare enter the village that was once his home become naught but icy statues never to leave, and the permanence of winter follows in his wake.

---
A wonderfully monstrous gift from my great friend  StarfallHybrid
She asked that I write out some story for how this happened, so above is a quick thing I thought up.
Non-canon stuff of course, but this is something that could have happened if things went worse for Zevrant.