The winds of history howl softly, through palimpsests of forgotten scrolls and memories erased. Each breath a relic, each sigh an echo of what was, and perhaps, what might have been.
In the hallways of time, shadows dance a curious ballet, knitting the fabrics of destiny and the void in between. Look closely, and you may find the ghostly outlines of dreams once dreamt, lost in the cracks of the ages.
Decode these whispers, if you dare: they speak of worlds that intersect and diverge, under the watch of stars long extinguished. Who were we, before we became this illusion?
As we ponder, the cipher unravels—a message etched across aeons in the language of the absent. A doorway, perhaps, or simply a passage leading nowhere. Just a mere glimpse of shadow.
Remember those who wandered the forgotten paths, seeking what was never meant to be found. Unseen whispers lead them still, our glimpses through their eyes.