Memory drifts and shapes the world through a lens cracked by time, where the serpent coils and uncoils, whispering secrets of the ever-vanishing past. Light flickers—perhaps an illusion—and the walls breathe a rhythmic sigh.

Somewhere, paths diverge into murky waters, reflecting not the sky but the abyss of forgotten dreams. A once-echoing laughter remains in the air, soaked in shades of decay and entropy. Follow the lost echo.

In the depths, a soft hum vibrates, resonating with each heartbeat, converging into a singular note, a tone of forgotten memories. Voices gather, yet their origin is obscured, buried beneath layers of sand and whispers.

The serpent moves, a slipstream of liquid thought, weaving through the labyrinthine mind, where old stories twist into new shapes, allusions becoming illusions. A flicker—perhaps the end, perhaps a beginning. Orbs of the unknown watch silently, judging or forgiving, who can tell?