In the ancient corridors of time, where echoes dare not tread, an aura silently lingers. A presence untouched by the hands of haste, enshrined in whispers of forgotten equations.
Step softly, for these auras speak in tongues unknown. The language of light, woven in shadow, murmurs under the weight of cosmic dust.
Do you hear the numbers dance? They form a spiral, a sigil of the unseen threads, binding the known to the arcane:
Beyond the veil of geometry, truth lies in the circle's embrace.