In the land where auroras sing and shadows dance on icy crust, there lies a muse—a ghostly timbre echoing across the frozen expanse. Each note, a whisper of solitude; a lullaby for the stars that forget how to glow.
As you walk upon this permafrost, the ground hums ancient tales, tales of wanderers and gods, woven into the very fabric of ice. It is here, among the crystalline giants, that one finds the true nature of silence—an ocean of peace, deeper than the night sky.