Shadows in the corridors ripple with forgotten breaths, murmuring the names of those who once walked these steps— echoes lost to time, swept away by the autumn winds.
A corridor stretched interminably beneath the mortar, creaking under the weight of whispered burdens. Dust motes, drifting in sepulchral light, held histories none dared retell, lest the walls weep again.
With every step, the floorboards sigh a keening song, lamenting what was, what could have been. Voices chime softly in unseen alcoves, a dirge for the living, a requiem for the passing.
Through cracked glass, the world continues indifferent— urban sprawl against the tapestry of a settling dusk. The final light flickers; a distant drone hums, wrapping the disintegrating tales in its metal embrace.
To the Abyss Further Echoes Fragments of the Past