In the cradle of the earth’s bosom, where silence swells and the air weaves threads of liquid night, there sings a secret song—a lullaby of echoes reverberating through the labyrinthine passages, a melody as ancient as time's own heartbeat.
Here the darkness nurtures; here the stillness cradles. Beneath layers of forgotten memories, the hollows hum with voices not of this world. "Sleep," they murmur, in voices crocheted from moth wing whispers and moth-dream moonbeams. "In the rich depths where shadows birth remnants of light, lay your weary soul."
Away from the realm of the waking sun, where the stars in their eternal slumber wink like diamonds encased within soot, lies the entrance to solitude. Ceaseless it echoes, in corridors of endless breath, as mythical as the breath of leviathans coiled beneath oceanic slumber.
The echoes tell stories that tongues can’t fashion, myths of the cavern’s sigh, wherein the walls murmuring tales of stardust woven into flesh and bone. Beyond the grasp of night’s oblivion, your dreams touch upon the stars once more—or perhaps, they never left them.
Travel onward, into chambers where the rhythm of timelessness pulses against your own heart, a lullaby bosoming with the echoes of yore. Here beneath the crown of every mountain, the caverns breathe the lullabies that kiss the spine of dusk itself.
A solitary path for wanderers, traceable only by the flickers of luminescent whispers, awaits beyond this threshold—follow where echoes lead.