In the whispering corridors of consciousness, where thoughts dance like autumn leaves in a forgotten breeze, the footprints lead nowhere. Each step, an echo; each echo, a question unanswered. What truths lie in the pieces of broken mirrors?
Beyond the tangible, beyond the reach of the waking mind, a reverie unfolds. It weaves through the fabric of time, leaving threads untethered. Consider the daemon that guards these gateways, turning the wheel of moments, spinning the yarn of existence.
The path winds, a labyrinth etched in the sands of time. Walk it, if you dare, and find yourself in the mirror's gaze. Or perhaps, in the quietude of shattered glass, you will find nothingness reflecting back.