You wander, seemingly aimless, in an age of timeless shadows. An echo bound by the string of yesterday's promise, the voice that once rang now a mere specter in the volume of one's mind.
Whispered legends speak of a place where the sun never pierces, where the alignment of ages aligns fractals in the dusk. You might find The Embedded Tree, or perhaps your own dream, lost to mists.
Footsteps. They trickle like grains in the hourglass, drawing paths only discernible to those who seek. Are they your own? Or a shadow's dalliance?
A silent challenge passes through the chamber: Involution