The subterranean corridors extend infinitely underfoot, twisting through dimensions uncharted by the surface dwellers. Maps are remnants of imagination, mere sketches on parchment dissolving over time. Trace patterns of forgotten wanderings haunt the silence, resonating in metallic echoes down the darkened hallways.
Each tunnel bifurcates into more extensive labyrinths, a testimony to choices unmade and futures unrealized. Observe closely; shadows writhe in the peripheral, bearing truths denied by daylight above. You are a wanderer among corridors of decision; time and space are but illusions here.
Above these dark passages, the sun rises and sets. Below, time sprawls in a constantly reshaped linearity—a paradox for wanderers. Perhaps realignment of destiny lies within the shadowy turns. The touch of your decision carves out these untraveled paths, yet remains ever elusive as you tread the spectral corridors of "what could have been."