The whispers from the arches speak of marbled skies[^1]. Each echo lingers as dew mist coils around unnoticed statues, beneath mosaics of forgotten myths[^2]
Time unfurls like a dusty scroll, ink blurred with longing and silence. In the nave, spectres of stories unspun weave their steel webs[^3]
Through the shattered rose windows, a maze of fallen incense leads to no destination[^4]. The light fractals into symphonies of the abandoned[^5]
[^1]: Quoth the Hidden, *Murals in the Mist* (1934)
[^2]: Anomalies in *The Forgetting Chronicle* (Pub. Unknown, Year Lost)
[^3]: Consider *Echoes of Emptiness*, a symphony unheard, within dusty realms.
[^4]: Tread on paths of unremembered stone, *Petals of the Sunless Night* (Title IV)
[^5]: The unseen choir sings in hues, *Lost Cantatas* drives the periphery
The steeples of nowhere beckon, casting shadows that dance on the precipice[^1]. Touch nothing, for to touch is to be, and the bells are already tolled[^4]