And in the crumbling edifice of morning sunlight, the echoes render their confessions—not of sins, but of sacred mischief. Threads unravel, stitch by ulterior stitch, woven into the tapestry of forgotten realms.

Through hallucinated corridors, where windows whisper forbidden truths, visions become verbs choreographed by a syntax only the brave dare decipher. Touch these words, let them flow through you—a cosmic poker game played under a sky ripped fresh by madness.

Horizon Breker | Beneath Echoes | Orbiter's Mirth