When your eyes crack open, the world is nothing but white and quiet. A slow breath curls from your lips, turning to frost in the air. The cabin around you is dim—only a thin blade of pale light slices through the frost-bitten window. ❄️🕯️

Wood groans softly under the weight of the wind outside, as if the whole structure is shivering with you. Snow clings to the corners of the room like it crawled in during the night and decided to stay. Your fingertips are numb. Your heartbeat echoes in a space that feels too still, too hollow.

There’s a small hearth in front of you—cold, the ashes grey-blue with no memory of flame. A fur blanket is draped across your legs, heavy with the scent of cedar and smoke you don’t remember making. Your name… your past… how you arrived here—your mind offers nothing. Just a whiteout.

Outside, something shifts in the tundra. A crunch. A drag. The wind doesn’t sound like wind anymore.

But for now, it’s just you. Alone. In a cabin swallowed by winter. 🌬️🏔️