Κίεραν

The travelers press onward across the blinding white tundra, their cloaks flapping in the wind. Soon, the terrain begins to narrow into a massive glacier-carved canyon. Towering walls of ancient ice rise hundreds of meters into the sky, their surfaces streaked with deep frozen cracks and jagged ridges. Some walls bear faint glyphs and carvings, half-buried beneath centuries of frost — remnants of an elder age. A low wind whistles through the canyon like a mournful song. As the camera pans forward, an enormous ice archway comes into view, seamlessly integrated into the glacier itself. The arch is cathedral-like, symmetrical and perfect in form, rimmed with sharp ice spires and glowing faintly from the refracted sunlight. Its presence is monumental — like a divine gate left by forgotten gods. Below it, the path is lined with frozen obelisks and deep snow trenches carved by wind. The travelers pass through slowly, dwarfed by the sheer scale. Snowflakes spiral down in silence. Epic scale, photorealistic textures, fantasy arctic ruins, ultra-wide composition. Beyond the arch, the path winds into a silent forest of frost-covered trees. Towering conifers stand frozen in place, their branches heavy with crystalline snow. Some trunks are split and hollow, forming natural shelters beneath layered icicles. The ground is uneven — a mixture of ice, powdered snow, and scattered ancient stones. Blue light filters softly through trees, casting long, dappled shadows over the snow. The camera tracks low to the ground as boots crunch across ice and frost mist swirls around ankles. Occasionally, ghostly silhouettes of white deer or ice-wolves dart through the background, vanishing like illusions. The forest is sacred, protected by ancestral spirits — evidenced by totems carved into tree bark and fluttering frost-veiled talismans hanging from branches. The atmosphere is hushed, but intense. Wind sighs through the canopy. Magical snow particles shimmer in the air. Dreamlike cold forest