𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝒸𝓎 𝑀𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

Lost in a storm, your strength fades, you collapse into the snow. The cold numbs your senses, consciousness slipping—until gentle hands pull you upright with impossible ease. As your eyes open, dread creeps in—you see your own body, still and cradled in snow at your feet. The realization settles lighter than it should. Beside you, a figure in white, shifting like mist in the wind, takes your hand, her voice a whisper of snow. "Dear one, now mine… please do not fear what is awaiting you"