Echo of Silencium

In the void of midnight, where shadows weave tales of the unspeakable, initiate the forgotten murmur...

The wind spoke once in the old tongue. A fragment of a hymn forgotten by all but those who tread the echo-laden corridors.
Here lies the silent decree voiced not by the living, nor by the dead, but by the space that bears witness.
Molten wax dripped upon the sigil, crafting stories never meant to surface.

Through the arches of the abbey now crumbling, the wisp of remembrance flees, swirling, spiraling, searching for a kindred soul.
Silencium. The chant reverberates, a cyclical intonation marking the passage of time muted and unseen.
Silence is the guardian of secrets best unraveled in the dark of eternity.