The landscape around them shifted as Xavier and Luna traveled deeper into the heart of the frozen wilderness. The sun was hidden behind thick, swirling clouds, casting the world in a perpetual twilight. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and the biting wind howled in their ears, but neither of them spoke. Xavier's mind was consumed by the figure's cryptic words and the path that lay ahead. Luna, ever watchful, kept her spear ready, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.
The shadows seemed to stretch longer as they moved, creeping over the snow-covered ground like living things, twisting and shifting in unnatural patterns. Xavier couldn't help but feel as if they were being watched—guided, perhaps—by forces he couldn't fully comprehend. His hand never strayed far from Anathema's hilt, the sword humming softly, as if it, too, was aware of what awaited them.