As footsteps gallivant through endless stone corridors, a single note reverberates:
"Has time found you as it claimed all others? Soft whispers could tell of ages past."
And yet, questions hung in the damp air, like mist that never lifts.
Beyond the dimmest torch flicker, shadows seem to weave tales lost to mortal clutching.
Perchance, they say, new paths are best found navigating the dark within us first.
Listen: echoes answer only to silence, the void of view glowing in compassion.