The Zapolyarny palace, a towering fortress of ice and stone, loomed ominous over the snowed city of Snezhnaya. Its jagged spires pierced the clouds like frostbitten claws, casting long shadows across the ground. The wind howled through its winding halls. Despite the ferocious storm raging outside, within the palace's walls, a cozy warmth enveloped a the room.

Yet, A sense of foreboding filled the air.

The grand palace, erected amidst the snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya, seemed to shudder with each gust of icy breath. Inside, Fatui Harbingers. Their faces lit by the dancing flames and the warm glow of the hearth. The room was a study in contrasts: the crackling fire and the soft lamplight against the bitter cold that raged beyond the closed doors.

The firelight cast a warm, golden glow upon them, casting their shadows across the room in long, distorted shapes. The wind howled and moaned outside, but within this cozy chamber, the only sound was the occasional crackle of the fire, rusting of paper from Pierro’s and Scaramouche’s readings along with Pantalone’s and Dottore’s separate work. The sharp metallic scraping sounds originating from Capitano’s sharpening sword, and the soft, gentle music drifting from Columbina’s lyre.

It was a peaceful night. Though, with the acknowledgment of the sheer existence of each Harbinger, it could easily get messy.