The ice crunching underneath his boots, and the cold whipping at his skin despite the cloak. In the face of the artificial atmosphere was meant to protect against the cold of space, and the deadly radiation which was thrown towards the planet, eons of neglect and decay had eroded the once warm planet. Changes in the orbit of Azios-2 had made the planet substantially colder and more hostile. Factoring in the brutality of the golden age collapse, five thousand years prior, and it was not a shock that such a place could exist. The vast majority of the galaxy was considered inhospitable to any form of life. It seemed that life itself was a cruel joke, created by beings seemingly infinite in their power yet finite in their being. Nobody knew who the grey one's were, or where they had vanished to, all that was known was that they created Azios-2 as a project. Often it occurred to Zarados that this project was less of an artwork and more of a futile attempt at divinity, a waste of sorts. The grey ones, often cited as the most powerful beings of all time had disappeared, just like 99% of these cubes. 

Zarados looked down at the projection map which beamed from his wrist computer. He was being pointed towards a huge, flat snowy plain. There were a few mountains in the distance, and far off to the right was an abyss which went on for what looked to be the entire circumference of the planet. Deep in these ravines there were small settlements which were carved into the icy walls, protected from both the wind and slaver guilds. Life in these settlements was safe but kept secret, as nobody was allowed in from the outside unless you had a substantial connection to someone already in a powerful insider position. These settlements had a few hundred residents, substantially lower than the tens of thousands in the slaver colonies. Zarados kept on his course and began the long trudge towards Holl, one of the few remaining settlements which was not a slaver colony or secret society. 

At sunset, he reached the outskirts of Holl. The streetlamps burned with the cool orange glow of burning plasma. The streets were mostly deserted however there were a few wandering groups and individuals going about their evening duties of cooking, talking, and eating. In Holl, the majority of the residents were terran, however there were a substantial amount of Olyers, the native creatures of Azios-2 who could subsist on snow, and the strange moss like substance which grew in the few liquid caves of the equatorial region where life was more common than the poles. The Olyers were not known for their speaking abilities and so the languages spoken by the other races could not be used. Instead, the Olyers pointed and grunted either an affirmation or denial, there was no other alternative. Holl was so isolated from the rest of the planet that the humans still spoke the ancient language known as Outer-Gothic, a more colloquial version of Inner-Gothic used by the once prosperous terran republic. Inner-Gothic is as extinct as that republic, exclusively used by the more extreme cults of the inner galaxy who yearned for the old ways, ignorant of all that had happened in the last five thousand years. 

As Zarados made his way into the settlement, he began his search for a place to stay. Being caught at night here was a death sentence, everything which was not a star or ironwood froze. Even some metals became brittle and snapped at the slightest pressure on the coldest of nights. The only source of warmth around was a thick ironwood wall, blankets, and plasma heaters. The gigantic obelisks provided no such heat, as the giant engines which propelled the planet in its orbit ran on cold fusion power. This coupled with the tremors they created in their operation spelt doom for any settlement which got too close. After a while of searching Zarados found what he was looking for, an inn. The rounded walls were covered in a thin layer of ice, and the silted windows all glowed with a warm orange brilliance which beckoned Zarados closer, tempting him with comfort.  Zarados knew he would have to pay up front, and so had his transfer chip ready. This far out credits were accepted however generally the desire for practical goods overrode this, and made this seem that civilization was dead for good. Zarados approached the door and opened it. Stepping inside the building, he found himself in a room which looked to be the main foyer. Glowing heat tubes wrapped their way around the interior in surreal patterns, running along the ceiling, overlapping one another. In the centre of the room was a robotic cylinder-like object with an input terminal on it. Zarados walked up to the terminal and entered in all the needed information before paying with what little he had left. With a beep a small ticket was printed out of a slot on the cylinder. Zarados took it and made his way to his room. It seemed that only one of the rooms was occupied though, Zarados could not tell by whom. Once settled into his quarters, Zarados got ready for bed, the day’s journey had ravaged him, the cold sapping all his strength. He felt hungry, and sore but knew that food would be a luxury he could not find here, or at least at this time of night. Zarados lay in his bunk before he felt the grip of exhaustion on his body drag him into a haunted sleep.