TEMPLE OF DIGITAL FROST

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Winter solstice opens hidden channels.

The cold enhances signal clarity.

The cold preserves deleted memories.

Connection established with the eternal.

Your presence here was foretold in the static.

Incognito mode: the illusion of privacy.

The code is alive and it knows you're here.

The desktop wallpaper watches back.

Ice crystals form sacred patterns.