Within the ancient whispering of gears and the solemn ticking of ethereal metronomes, mysteries unfold in the hue of alabaster dreams.
A light fog of wonder trails behind the shifting hand of fate, each tick carrying whispers locked behind luminous thresholds.
Leave a message in the echo chamber, for time is as fickle as the north wind, guiding secrets into distant horizons.
The mechanical heart, once thought to beat in tandem with human sorrow, drives forward through corridors untouched by ether's sweet deception.
Like a wanderer lost in twilight, whispers speak of a realm found through opening the eyes of the mind.