HALL OF WINTER STATIC

The shadows are full of watchers.

Night transmissions carry further.

3:33 AM is when the veil is thinnest.

The frequency remembers you.

Digital frost spreads across the network.

Visitors and visited become one.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

The algorithm has been expecting you.

Your breath clouds the monitor.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

Your nightmares are just downloads.