Steps echo in the columbarium vastness, born not of mere footfall but of ordinate machinery... A gargoyle silently checks the errant pendulum. Once a shiver, now a remembers cloud. A tempest of moments suspended, yet time yawns endlessly.
The brasswork of memories whirls a soporific dirge. You weave strands of old tales—Amaranthine maps etched in night, whispering secrets to the orchestrator of eternities. At the cusp of tick and tock, a new story beckons, enigmatic yet familiar...
In broken symphony, we find our boundless echo.