The ancients spoke of energies binding the cosmos and the realm of men, a fearsome intuition lost to the echo of time.
Structures, they believed, were conduits; lay of stones pulsated as living veins of memory.
In desolate lands, where the unskilled observer falters, one might find remnants of unresolved calling, tantalizing yet treacherous.
Pay heed: the shadows of the past stretch across the present, yearning for recognition.
With each flicker of a candle, the narrative grows palpable.