In the echoing hall where time snarls at memory, dim voices trail like phantom leaves, dancing in the gusts of unremembered words.
A chill current of unsaid sentiment brushes against the soul, merging with cobweb tapestries that whisper secrets eagerly forgotten.
Beneath arching, iridescent dusk, the Tower bears voiceless sentinels — curators of night, pressing the silence as if to extract stars from shadows.
Follow beneath crimson vines, through the skeletal reach of twisted branches — paths woven into whispers that curve without aim, seeking only the void beneath your steps.
Beyond the VeilI spoke to shadows cast by flames untouched, heard the vibrations of their silent screams. They coaxively whispered: Embrace the haunting silhouettes, only they can guide you to Eternity.
Linger longer, gracefully shrouded, in misted edges where fog caresses the secrets of doubt and grief.
Leave your specter among the echoing memories lest the whispers forge anew in inevitable mire.
The Darkened Path