The cold winds of winter had made their domain over the entire Vinlig territory, where the snow never melted, and the biting chill gnawed at the bones.
For twelve months of the year, the land lay blanketed in white, with not a sign of spring to thaw the frozen ground.
The territory was stuck in an eternal cycle of frost, and the people had long learned to endure.
But endurance came at a cost—suffering etched itself into their faces, leaving them as mere shadows of what they could have been.
Three children could be seen coming out of the mansion, walking past the imposing iron gates that separated their conditions from the harsh reality outside.
With each step, the crunch of snow underfoot was a harsh reminder of the desolate state of their land.
Given that it was nighttime, the conditions were far worse than during the day.
