"I am but a wisp of night sky," murmurs the ceramic owl perched perpetually upon a hollowed mist. Its eyes twinkle, pretense of wisdom veiling the void within. "What tales, you inquire, do we dare to peel beneath our unblinking gaze?"
Timelock secrets wither in disused corners, narrated by whispers woven of shadow and tarnished gold.
The glorious standing lamp, beacon of artificial daylight, sways sluggishly, secrets embossed upon its brass stem. "Listen closely," it whispers, flickering nervously, "Our shadows reveal all that we hide."
The click of a switch, then darkness, blended echoes of forgotten truths hourglass dwindling at the periphery.