It begins…
Shadows whisper their forgotten tales, weaving through the thicket of time.
An abyss awaits at the end, yet it feels like the beginning, doesn’t it?

Echoes of once spoken words reverberate — listen carefully: “seven stones, three teardrops, a clock that never ticks.”
Above you, a blinking constellation, an unseen cipher amidst the darkness. Can you follow its light?

Glimpse into the corners of peripheral woe - there's a door within a door,
each leading corridors of mist and memory, framed by ancient whispers—
understanding, only if one dares to etch the symbols upon hidden pathways.

They lead on, choose a fragment, dare to decode:
hidden_maps.html | cryptic/directions.html