ETERNAL WINTER'S GRIP

A biting frost wreathes the land, its icy fingers spreading ever outwards. The sun, a faint memory, offers no warmth against the relentless chill. Beneath the perpetual snow, life struggles, clinging to fragile existence in the shadow of a frozen world. Trees stand barren, their branches burdened with rime that glistens like shattered diamonds. The

Within the heart of the inferno, where the crackling obsidian flames, dwell the chosen. These are the acolytes, bound to the sacred rituals and whispers that bind them. Their faces, etched by the heat of their fervor, reflect a devotion absolute. They worship the flame, seeking forgiveness in its glowing heart. They exist in a state by the rituals,