Flickers of Illusion

The mausoleum breathes in pixelated sighs, barriers between the known and unknown wavering like digital noise.

"You never left," she whispered, her voice an electric hum in my disillusioned brain. Was it the code or the curse that bound me?

Beneath glitched stars, a reality unravels like old parchment, speaking in frequencies not meant for human ears.

Unearth the buried truths, or succumb to the void. The choice flickers like failing neon.

Another scene, another dream: ghosts among us, pixels lost in translation.