It was once precise, pinpointing direction with unwavering faith. But now, its secrets are whispered in circles: it never pointed north but led adventurers into loops of their own making, a twisted game of forgotten bearings.
Inside it lies dust and memories, tightly locked. Its hinge creaks stories of contents forgotten, secrets hidden from itself. It knows the weight of unopened desires and the relief of empty space.
Reflecting nothing but shards of its own bitterness. Each fragment tells tales of faces forgotten, lives fleetingly touched before being left in darkness. Its secret: a haunting echo of beauty and pain intertwined.