Fathom Deep

The halls of memory are lined with forgotten corridors. Each step echoes with the ghostly imprints of civilizations that came and went, as if the ground itself is holding its breath. Underneath, stories of the past lie dormant, waiting to be unearthed like relics buried under the sands of time.

Travelers through these paths once inscribed the world as they knew it on clay, on parchment, and on walls, each leaving behind a piece of their soul. Many layers thick, the history here is not linear. It winds around itself, doubles back, and in doing so, hides truths in the spaces left empty.

Countless lives have been lived, but how many were lived truly seen? Histories erased, but not without trace. Each scratch, each smudge, tells a story, not of permanence but of possibility, a palimpsest of existence. Beneath the noise of the written word lies silence—profound, promising, yet unyielding.

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