In the hushed corners of a clockwork cathedral, where shadows dare not tread, the Tesseract whispers. Echoes of a time forgotten, entangled within the labyrinth of mechanical minds, sing an eerie lullaby.
Gears grind slowly, methodically, under the watchful eyes of rusted automatons. Their gaze, unyielding, pierces through the veil of darkness, seeking the light of understanding. But the light is transient, only illuminating the path for the briefest of moments.
Here lies a forgotten truth—an inscription etched in the cold embrace of steel:
"To navigate the whispers, one must not fear the shadows." A reflection in time's mirror, hidden within the hollow clanks of destiny's bell.
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