In a dimly-lit chamber, hidden beneath cobwebbed arches, the whispers are sold by candlefire—exchanged in fragile envelopes cunningly sealed with crimson wax. Each whisper a debt, a transaction with the void.
Venture past the mirror where secrets linger: do you dare bid upon the unborn echo etched in ages past? Knights of shadow guard these halls where transactions cling to specters that once bore the fall, their reflections ever-waiting, ever-watching.
Haunt the edges of forgotten temples where mirror games falsify the present with glimmers of a lost tomorrow. Linger in wavering doubts beneath the solemn canopy.
The pen scratches whispers upon envelopes, torn threads pensively woven through time's tapestry. Names vanish under midnight hued ink, leaving trails of disquiet.
Shadows murmur enchanted phrases inverted—do not blink, they warn, in sightless tongues unspoken reside the answers. Witness immutable laws where reflection determines a soul's fate.
Traverse the corridors of lost arcana, where manuscripts curl with lore of tangled past and forsaken twilight promises always a deeper dive.