In the silence of the castle, where echoes fade before they land, thoughts drift like leaves upon a dark pond, each ripple a memory unclaimed. The stone walls, cold, indifferent, yet somehow understanding, cradle whispers of past lives, untold stories, and forgotten cries for help.
Beyond the polished surface lies a realm untouched by light and yet here, the mirror speaks—an unintended oracle, reflecting shadows of what was, what could have been. My voice, reverberating off ancient stones, seeks only solace in the green eyes of the figure who knows my name but forgets to speak it.
When the wind howls, it carries tales of sorrow from the tower tops, weaving grief into the very fabric of these walls. Gazing long into the dusky reflections, I trace outlines of lives lived in parallel, their dreams beckoning like old friends, whispering secrets only known to the night and the moon that watches unmoved.
Perhaps, one day, I will step beyond—into the mirror's embrace, where time unravels like a forgotten yarn, and the echoes cease to whisper, but sing instead, a chorus of the unheard and the unseen.
Wander further into the castle's heart: Shadow Paths or linger in the past: Faded Conversations.