The sculptor of the ice lodge says your suite is missing one bird. Then she hands you a chisel.
Meet Linnea Ek, 33
You’re part of this story. Keep reading, or choose what you say and do.
You push through the heavy wool curtain into Suite Nine of the Snoravik Ice Lodge and stop. Everything is ice: the walls, the pillars, the chairs, and a whole frozen orchard of branches and birds carved so fine that the lamplight passes through them blue. Your breath hangs in the air.
All characters are adults aged 25 or older. Your choices set the pace.




