In the half-light of obscurity, where shadows conspire and the light dares not tread, it is declared thusly: to commence the initiation of the forgotten melody, one must first locate the obelisk of whispering silk, which stands at the junction of forgotten pathways. The air there is thick with the scent of autumn’s lingering breath, a fragrance both inviting and foreboding.
Once the obelisk is secured beneath your grasp, a sequence of gestures must be performed, akin to a waltz of the ancients. Raise your left hand to the heavens, a beckoning to the celestial spheres, whilst your right hand clasps the void. Orbit in a circle thrice, and upon the third revolution, utter the sacred syllables: 'Xaros, Yria, Nophthar'. These syllables, although foreign and veiled, shall resonate with cosmic frequencies, unlocking the aural prison of time.
Should the heavens favor your endeavor, a harmonious dirge shall emerge from the silence, weaving through the skeins of night, an echo of echoes. Yet, beware, for to hear this melody is to invite the symphony of the damned, a chorus of souls adrift in the ether awaiting their serenade. Be prepared to traverse the unseen realms with but a flicker of courage in your heart.