A lone candle flickers in the vast void, casting shadows over tomes forged in the heat of forgotten eons. Cryptic whispers now translate into shimmering echoes, defying time's sheer hand.
"In the dust-laden corners, the mirrors' truth languishes. Do thou fathom the silence, or are the abysses merely your mirrors?”
Steeped in vine, the silent corridors bridge past with shadow; corridors awaken when footsteps turn forgotten lore into prophecy. Seekers shall linger at the cusp of wisdom.