Time itself slowed in the frostbitten void, a ghostly realm where night's clutch painted the landscape in a monochrome palette. Draped over the surface of existence were layers—heavy, mystical veils, darkened whispers frozen in their threads.
Sable tendrils spun by unseen hands danced across the lake's mirror, revealing fleeting glimpses of what should not be seen—a dilapidated castle, once a dominion of despair and dreams, now entombed in silence.
Through the haze of tundra, paths diverge. Each whispering promise an echo of another's folly. Seek or shun these twilight threads, the choice weaves the outcome.
Upon arrival, you shall meet the Shadow Keepers, guardians of memory's serene abyss, lost in their vigil.
Step lightly. Each icicle's glimmer could be a frozen tear, eternally shedded for a lost soul.