Beneath the gothic archways of memory, where the whispering winds tarry in shadows, a whisper... A cauldron of dreams forgotten—fizzling, seeping into the cold stone floors. Did you hear it? Once vibrant, now a mere echo, resonating with the chill of dusk.
Among the cobwebbed corners, words scarred into peeling parchment convey tales of yore. "Beneath the moonlit eaves," they murmur, "lies the tomb of your wishes, entombed in silence."
An inscription etched into starlight, the sigils fade under the weight of time's touch. The specters linger by the ruined corridor, waiting, watching, whispering.
Attend to the alleys of doubt, where the final whispers die, where dreams diachronic dance in a macabre ballet. Will you join the silent symphony that echoes throughout eternity?