In the early dawn of the buried ages,
beneath the sands of whispering winds,
the Lost Chronicles lay idle,
untouched, unforgotten, awaiting a whisper.
The labyrinth was more than a maze;
it was the cradle of human echoes,
intertwining destinies of dreams and reality,
where truth often wandered astray.
Within its intricate corridors,
a strange alchemy thrived unseen:
The alchemy of hope, fading yet eternal,
whispering the secrets through cracked walls
only visible to those wisened by time.
Echoes tell of a Traveler,
whose ambers reflected a forgotten path;
their eyes held the unfathomable depth
of stars too distant to be born anew.
Follow where the silence encounters peace,
seek where the first stars illuminated,
for there resides the poem of existence,
penned by the hands of forgotten gods.
Beneath the vibrant waves of cosmic weave,
lies the essence untouched by flesh,
stretching through the whispering labyrinth
a reveal of unknown poetry, lost, yet found.