The ancient hall of sweets, a **haunting dominion**, echoes with **forgotten whispers**. Herein lies the inventory of mellifluous phantoms entangled in the threads of confectionary lore.
Candies laced with ink of midnight skies; each wrapper holds a **secret melody**, barely recognizable, suspended within silence.
They murmur in unison, woven in **estranged harmony**, a lure to the unwary, a riddle without a melody for the wise.
In this confectionery Abyss, the eternal loop wraps and unravels, where bitter **symphonies** collide with sweet **solitude**.
Sing, oh forgotten ones, the bittersweet songs of static lullabies,
Where caramel rivers flow into **vortexes of despair**.
The clock **ticks backwards**, heralding the non-arrival of morning.
Walk swiftly, seeker! Do not linger, lest the confectioners’ **Greeting Turn Familiar**.