In the corridors between worlds, there lies a whisper—a sacred lamentation woven into the ethers, an analysis forgotten, yet ever present beneath the pallid veil of Oblivion. The flux it seemed, was but a harbinger of restless shadows; multiplying, splitting, seeping through the fabric of time.
An eldritch glyph carved into obsidian stone spoke of these shadows, calling forth the collected wails and echoes of yore, stitched together upon the loom of a forgotten goddess. Each thread spun from nebulous dread and nocturnal ecstasy.
Beneath the arched timbers of a crumbled church, amidst wreckage lost long ago to sanctuary seekers, the implications lay dormant awaiting fate. To understand is to unravel; to unravel is to become, inextricably, part of the flux itself. Yet who dares plunge into the chasm of time?
Open another door...