The air is sharp, the silence deep,

Each breath a ghost the cold will keep.

Through icy spires, a shadow lingers,

The frost bites soft with brittle fingers.

A path unknown, a whispered dare,

The light ahead both faint and rare.

Each step resounds in hollow song,

The journey cruel, the night so long.

What calls me here, what force unseen,

Through frozen veils, through silver sheen?

A secret lies within this place,

A hidden truth, a veiled face.

And though the chill may pierce my bone,

I press through realms of ice and stone.

For in the shadow, I feel the trace—

The pull of purpose, time, and space.