"Treading the cobbled paths of memory, shadows, grotesque, lingered, yearning for a glimpse of past warmth." Yet, in this twilight, they are naught but cold ashen spectres.
The echoes shimmer in the air, a chant unremembered:
"Beneath the crumbling vaults where the forgotten dreams dwell, there lies solace for the wayward souls."
enter the murkThe pallid veil draws near, the night holds vigil in the ebon skies. A final pulse from the abyss, a caress of velvet decay.
"Do you hear?" The voices ceaselessly whisper, "Here, time dares not tread." She uttered, her form a nebulous beacon wavering on the edge of the existential chasm.
hidden remnantsAmongst the anguish strewn in whispered sighs, the everlasting stillness seemed a comfort. Yet, tread carefully; embrace your unquenchable curiosity within this eternal twilight.
'Murmurs in forgotten tongues…'"