Within the curves of whispered fragments, lost among the crumbling echoes, where stones speak and night listens, murmurs linger...
Ancient relics dream under layers of forgotten dust. Their secrets seep into the flooring, murmuring tales of eons past, of kingdoms that have faded like print upon parchment, dry and brittle.
The air thickens with ghostly sighs, phantoms unforgotten, etched within the golden veins of time, where shadow sails smooth-skinned seas under a crescent moon, drifting silently...
Do you hear the tangles of whispers unraveling? Entrapped in cycles of perpetual dusk, in the embrace of sleeping giants, where light and shadow entwine, weaving through the ancient tapestry.
Answer the calls from the edge of the timeless woodlands, listen close to the fading heartbeat of stone, where each pulse is a world unto itself, woven in silence... spinning, spinning forevermore.