In the abyss of forgotten eras, I felt them coil around my mind. Darker than obsidian, they were echoes with no source.
The clock, frozen, ticks not, yet resonates with a visceral hum—each pulse reverberating through eldritch voids.
An eye opened, not in sight but in soul, unbidden. The beginning whispered… in a time not of counting.
Amidst the swirling shadows, a name: Carthesium. Its syllables lifting, floating, haunting... a cautioned embrace of silence.
Do you remember? Not in this world, but somewhere else—where thought pierces the veil and one perceives the hidden strands of a universe weaving dreams.