The silence saws through, a thousand whispers lost across ages, hidden, bathing in shadow, waiting to be heard. They flow like rivers released from forgotten mountains, unmarked, uncharted, silent screams pierced the veil, echoes of what cannot sleep, cannot be named, cannot rest. Beneath the ground, beneath the dreams, beneath the sleeping tides of consciousness flicker auras of old truths.
Can you hear them? Can you feel them brush like ghostly fingers along the edges of your waking world? Architects of confusion, illusion and reality blurred into one seamless tapestry. An ancient bell rings in a distance that is both near and otherworldly, calling you to the hidden streams, to the forgotten paths winding through the labyrinth of time's dusty embrace.