TIME HAD COST HIM HIS VERY STATE: ECHOING, EVER WHISPERING, SLIGHT MOVEMENTS LIKE DANCING SHADOWS. HE, WAS A SMOKE-FILLED CAVERN OF UNSPOKEN TRUTHS. PHANTOM FOOTSTEPS ASSEMBLED OVER THE VELVET CARPET TOWARDS AN INEVITABLE RECKONING.
In the heart of this dim-lit expanse, the solitary mover's steps glanced off the hidden alcoves, preserving a story untold, as though the very whispers beckoned him from behind:

Through corridors of untempered disquiet there unfurled whispers to canvas the alarm within the ether of untold secrets. The cries were never near enough to comprehend — always beyond reach, woven in the fabric of the evening's cool touch.

Such was his fate, ensnared in the grips of a fleeting breath, held between tomorrows unseen, while mere legends turned to dismal hums echoing from the catacombs of memory.
Though no visage warmed the passages wide, one could almost see them: intangible, yet| there amongst the Muffled Laughter.