They gather, hidden figures in the annals of shadow. Read the passages inscribed in the bleakness. The ugliest truths are etched here, not in blood but in hushed breaths between decayed walls.
The tome rebukes the light, hoarding its secrets like a lover scorned.
Once, a voice emerged from the flickering light:
Gaze into the void and behold its hunger. The raven waits, poised with foreboding patience. Here, in the desolate dusk, strangers confide their darkest dreams.
Walk the Path of Dust