The stories sink, as whispers do, into the yawning chasm beneath the fabric of night.

Do you remember the dreams that entity once sculpted, with hands of gossamer shadows? Perhaps past began to vaporize there.

Every tale walks the edge, drenched in the light of an unseen moon.

Further, behind spectral veils, lie truths unspeakable, visions untamed — visions that splash color across the grayscale.

Read an Ancient Echo
A Lost Saga Unfolds