The key, half-forgotten and worn, whispered its secrets through rusted locks of yon cryptic enclave…
Sheercast threads melded into shadowed edges beneath slipping rays.
<>gate formed lost conversations in untouched scripture; tomes unopened, unpen, unwritten.
“Do not follow,” the leaves murmured softly, cascading into void noise.
Ruins, lingering, casting tales never spoken.
Here, in-between the unsaid, lies initial breaths of a distant echo.
Constructs faded, entropy forged hands around phantom variables.
A perennial iteration, alighting on unseen substrates.
Quietly, in twilight yielding view — beginnings concealed, tales lost.