It's said that on a frozen bridge of shimmering despair, one can hear whispers — echoes of desires trapped in ice, suspended, never to melt. Here lies the place between what was and what could be, a yawning chasm of forgotten promises shrouded in eternal twilight.
Amber thoughts float in the crystalline expanse, looming like specters over an abyss unseen. A tremor in the air sings of old lullabies, enigmatic, shrouded in mystery, and the heart pines for truths long abandoned.
Shadows dance on the periphery of vision, whispering secrets gleaned from ages past, lost to history. Silhouettes, hunched and cloaked, drift upon a wind that whistles through the crevices of time, imbuing the air with an otherworldly chill.
Commit yourself to the walk, onto the windswept bridge, where death's hush wraps the world in shadow. Feel the echo of Nordic gods beneath your feet as you traverse the frozen ribbon binding dreams to lightless matter.
Open the Door of Oblivion