In a world where winter’s magic held its breath, two siblings perched on a colossal book, its gilded pages glinting faintly under the pale, snowy light. The frostbitten tree behind them mirrored their solemn thoughts, its branches adorned with tiny frozen orbs that seemed to pulse with stories untold. “Do you think the book remembers?” the girl whispered, her breath a plume of white in the cold. The boy nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon where snow met sky. “It remembers everything,” he replied, “every whispered word, every dream we’ve dared to share.” Below them, an owl watched silently, as if guarding the secrets of a thousand winters woven into the pages beneath them.
