In the dusk of an unending hallway, Aislinn stared at the footprints. Not hers, not anyone's she'd ever seen leading into the vast, swallowed darkness. They whispered a tale, one of shadows moving against the grain of time itself—a rhythm no one followed, yet everyone knew. The echo of steps, a cadence to a song unsung.
Moments slipped as grains in an hourglass, etching grooves into her soul. With each breath she stole, the world around closed its eyes, dreaming of things unseen. A passage carved by fate, illusion masked with the fragrance of evergreen pine mixed with distant ocean brine.