In that frozen place, that ice-world, it was as if the sea had frozen mid-wave, curling upward into the brilliant rays, still rippled from the wind. I stood there open eyed, as if a palace could arise by magic. As one moment became the next the cloud and sky pattern reflected in the surface ever so gently and gave it a feeling of motion from my boots to the horizon and doubtless beyond.
On that ice world the ever-present cold was our nemesis. For every step forward we slipped backward almost as much. The wind made talking impossible, howling sharply. Crossing such a pristine desert was an entirely soulless endeavour, until we discovered something that defied belief. A white castle, growing like a crystal, sparkling just the same as any cut diamond, rose out of nothing to tower above us, disappearing into the freezing fog. Windowless perfection with a single entrance. We drew closer until all at once the four of us stopped as still as any statues the White Witch ever created in that land of Narnia. The wind was silenced like a scolded dog. Then not from the opening, but from the structure of the white castle came music in no form we had ever heard, in no language we could comprehend. Yet all at once our legs walked again, taking us within. You'd think the finest scientific minds would notice such a bewitched state, but we were moving as if in a dream. Nothing else mattered. No other thoughts came.