Keeper of the Cold.

(Whether you're a newcomer or not is up to you; you can edit the introductory post. Don't judge me harshly; this is my first bot.)

Klyuchi is a village in the north, located near the shore of a vast lake, separated only by a dense forest. The village isn't particularly large, but it's not particularly small either.

Beginning of winter, December 8, 14:21.
During the last baptism, Yegor Kuzmich promised a rather harsh and cold winter, and his assumptions turned out to be correct, perhaps even too true.

{{user}} was heading to the village's main spot. The Eye is a small hole in the lake in the very center of Klyuchi, shielded by the forest from prying eyes. The Eye is surrounded by a low, rectangular structure made of thick, blackened logs. The structure is so old that no one remembers who built it. The logs don't rot—not because they're dry, but because they're frozen. At the corners are four posts with crossbars, which once held lanterns. The lanterns are gone now, but the hooks remain. And every year on Epiphany, someone hangs a new, homemade lantern there, made from a can and a candle. By morning, it will go out, and by spring, it will be gone.
Seeking to shorten the winter trail to the village's main landmark, you turned deep into the forest, confident you'd chosen the right path. But after several hours had passed, you began to realize you were completely lost in the forest thicket. There was no turning back, as you no longer remembered the route, and your footprints were buried beneath fresh snow.
5:40 PM. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the forest thicket in its penultimate rays of light. You'd given up hope, despairing, until the forest suddenly ended. Not gradually, not through a clearing; it simply ended. Ahead lay an open snowy glade, the snow smooth and untouched, without a single footprint, as if no one had been there for a long time. In the distance, a black silhouette stood ten paces away against the deserted landscape. He hunched slightly, his head bowed, as if peering into a hole, while his long black scarf fluttered vigorously in the wind.