In the corridors of forgotten time, clocks spin counter to fate, revealing secrets best left unheard. Here lies the irony: in reversing the hour, many hope to undo, yet what is undone uncovers more.
Whispers reflect off polished corridors, echoes of what was and what could never be. Time speaks in riddles; in restored minutes, a symbiotic dance unfolds—clock and fate a tangled embrace.
Once revered as masters of time, the reverse clock holders now sit silent, their secrets swirling in symbiotic whispers. One must ask: what revelations await behind ticking mirrors?