In rummaging shadows, behind glistening mirrors, there lies the breath of time—it respires echoes.
Whispers of the bygone hover, haunted creatures of despair lurk within, inside the opaque depth.
Observe: perhaps your odyssey is reflected, or a stranger's grief at twilight disposed.
Legends claim that incurrents of ominous symbiosis relay the truths veiled by daylight.
Seek them at:
Dungeon Reflections, or wander to
Cryptic Flames where the tales stammer and hum lullabies of doom.
Compose your sonnet to the mirror. Whisper it, lest it shant be known.