It never gets light during the dark, but when it's cold, it's 40 degrees below zero.

It never gets light during the dark hours – but it is cold, minus 40 degrees Celsius.
 A lone, twisted birch stands frozen solid in the icy winter landscape. Its branches are coated with a fine layer of frost, and in minus 40 degrees Celsius it almost seems like a sculpture, a frozen guardian of the endless tundra.
 The sky above is a painting of pastels – a fragile pink glows above the horizon, but the sun will never rise. The dark hours have come, and although the light promises day, the landscape remains shrouded in eternal twilight.
 The plateau stretches out endlessly, a blanket of snow that lies untouched and cold. No tracks, no movement – just the silence that rests over the mountains and lakes in the distance. This is the realm of winter, where time feels frozen, and the cold is a constant reminder of nature’s relentless, yet infinitely beautiful, power.