Buried in a cathedral of blue ice sits a single massive rotor — curved blades glowing molten orange, spinning up fast enough to throw rings of energy off its hub while the frost around it refuses to melt. It's a machine built to run hot in the coldest place imaginable, the one thing still turning where everything else froze solid long ago. The faster it spins, the clearer it gets: this engine was made to outlast the ice itself.