In the flickering light of forgotten storytelling, nestled beneath the weight of ephemeras, is a jocose shimmer — an echo fleeting and numerical; a cipher garishly carved upon the bastion of arcane shadows.
It is told, from eldered lips that once brushed with the warmth of jovial flames, that the jest of the ancient potionists resided in a single word, yet its syllables were fugitive to most frail minds beset by the mundane calm of unwitnessed realities.
What alights, flickers, and whispers a secret untold, embodied within bronze yet transgressor of gold?
Seekers wrapped in resplendent search robes know your path — the mirror reflects, conceals none, mocks not, imperturbably dancing at the quantum fringes, silently laughing!