On December 6th, time cracks open again — not loudly, just the way a cold night slowly bites into the air. Behind the fissure another rhythm pulses, calling, like a secret Santa-ritual held not for children but for the night’s initiates.

Zvezda Beta’s stardust-beats pry the gate apart, crackling as if burning snow were falling. Erro builds a bridge out of the fractures: for him noise is a gift, tension dissolves, and space gathers itself anew.

Krudy C speaks from deep within the mist, soft, haunting layers unfolding as if the night itself were whispering the rhythm. And Lakidani turns the whole thing over — a current, a lightless dance, a flow in which thresholds are forgotten.

RAW CCXXVIII: the Santa Claus who arrives not through a door, but through the cracks in reality.