The chamber hums with silent incantations, shadows waltzing quixotically in the periphery of vision. Each reflection, not just an image but an echo of the soul's secret song.

A glance upwards reveals a cascade of thoughts—a revelation, perhaps? Or an illusion spun from the mist?

"Enter, wanderer, through veils yet unconsidered Velvet Dreams and divest your mirage," whispers the mirror.

Mystical riddles interlace.
Reality or fleeting apparition?

In this chamber where time tilts askew, the reflections speak in tongues unlearned... inviting. Somehow familiar yet improvised on starlight silvered wings.