The moon hung high in the obsidian sky, a radiant sentinel casting its silvery light upon the towering, frost-laden mountain. Each gust of wind that screamed across the jagged cliffs was sharp, unforgiving — yet the deep-set frost clung to the ancient stone, unmoved and eternal.
Snowflakes drifted through the air like falling stardust, each one unique, carved by the breath of the mountain itself. They shimmered faintly in the moonlight, their patterns delicate and hypnotic. Among them, ethereal constructs — silver and translucent — fluttered like ghostly butterflies. They moved in slow, deliberate patterns, tracing unseen paths through the sky as if in an age-old ritual.
But even this otherworldly beauty paled in comparison to the spectacle at the mountain's peak.
