Beneath the pall of impending twilight, whence the howling winds
cast shadows upon the stone-carved omens, lies a tale woven in
silken threads of enigma and dark allure.
The ancient ones spoke in riddles, their whispers a haunting
symphony that caressed the ear with mellifluous dread.
Interwoven with these lamentations are paths leading to
the labyrinths of time, where secrets
entombed in dust await the curious seeker.
Herein, the ancients have engraved their whispers—silent yet
deafening, bearing witness to epochs unwritten and futures
unfathomed.