In the land where the sun gives up the chase, shadows dwell long, embracing the frost. The air, a sharp knife, cuts silence—here, the past and future are caught in an eternal dance.
"Remember when the whispers told us this was north?
When we stood here, beneath the ever-frost,
Did we see the past, or merely glimpses of ourselves,
Reflected in a mirror lost amongst time's labyrinth?"
Echoes from the Crevasse
Glacia Trails
Journey through the Mirrorland
The mirror does not forget. Every reflection, a step into a corridor of fading echoes, stretching like the path ahead. Each choice, a frostbitten memory frozen in the everwinter.