Deep within the shadowy recesses of the mind, where light fears to tread and no memory remains intact, lies a tome. Its spine has never felt the caress of hands, for it holds lost paths to nowhere and everywhere, stitched into chapters without written words.
Some say it whispers when the winds align, swapping whispers with echoes amongst the solace of scribed stars. Will you decipher its silent lament or let it remain a riddle to soul inquesters?