In a land where the very air whispered of forgotten epochs, the towering monolith had stood for as long as anyone could remember — if anyone remained to remember at all. It gleamed with a brilliance not of stone, but of something far older, far deeper, as if it had been carved from the heart of the cosmos itself. The frozen plains stretched endlessly beneath it, a desolate landscape of white snow and jagged rocks that seemed to bow in awe before the sheer, radiant presence of the monolith. No one knew who had placed it there or for what purpose, but the legends spoke of it as a sentinel, a keeper of ancient knowledge, standing between realms.
Far away, across the same frozen wilderness, another relic awaited — an arch, half-buried in the snow, its luminous surface pulsing faintly with the same cosmic energy as the monolith. Unlike its towering counterpart, the arch exuded an invitation. To pass through it, the legends said, was to walk between worlds, to step into the unknown and emerge somewhere — or somewhen — else.