In the heart of the twisting corridors, where shadows merge with echoes,
The labyrinth speaks not in language, but in tones ancient as time,
Carried by the sonorous winds that weave through its endless expanse.
Listen. The echoes here are truth.
Each turn is a spiral upon itself, resonating with the hidden frequencies
that align across the fractal dimension.
There, amidst tunnels of reverberating silence, lies the forgotten song,
whose verses hum like the heartbeat of unseen worlds.
There is a threshold beyond which sound becomes essence-
enter or pass through.