Kühl's prophecy lingered in the twisting dark, its vertices veiled in shadows and whispers of bygone eras. The air tasted of rust and neglect; abandonment was an entity, a figure in a long, draped cloak, hovering by the edge of every thought.
I walked these corridors adorned with fading tapestries, where the elusiveness of ancient whispers had me chained in curiosity. They echoed of forgotten banquets in rooms perpetually out of reach, prose recited aloud as ink dribbled with the motion of its Maker's absentmindness.
They spoke about lost Kings and Queens whose names crumbled to vile dust, whose citadels were razed by disinterest and decay. Such is the degradation wrought upon all who stand confused by unfathomable Eternity we walked through.