In the sanctuary of solitude, memories materialize like specters of a bygone era. Time, a fickle mistress, bestows these visions.
A corridor lined with portraits, their eyes traced in twilight, follows you. Do they know your name? Whispered confessions ride the chill breeze.
Into the ChamberBeneath tarnished chandeliers, forgotten banquets spread—cold, yet, warmth seeps through the blessings of waxen statues.
Among the StarsLeaves claw at the doors, seeking entry to secrets held by your own pattern of forgotten tongues.
Echo of Truth