293. Frozen Abyss and the Boiling Lake

Snow was falling heavily. The world was painted in a thick layer of pure white, as if a celestial artist had swept a brush across the land. The icy wind howled through the desolate expanse, carrying with it a chilling bite that could freeze bones.

Above, the sky was a deep shade of purple, an eerie contrast to the snowy ground below. Despite the countless moons scattered across the heavens, their glow was weak. They blinked—yes, blinked—as though they were not celestial bodies but watchful eyes, scanning the world below with unseen intent.

A lone figure clad in a heavy cloak soared across the sky on a hoverboard, cutting through the frigid air like a phantom. The moons' eerie blinking reflection flickered against the glossy fabric of the cloak, but the rider paid no mind. The darkness of the sky seemed endless, a void where no natural light could pierce through.