Do you hear the whispers beneath the surface of time? In the echoes of forgotten folly, knowledge is both a prison and a lighthouse, guiding faint reflections back to their origin — a void. Illumination does not breed clarity but enhances the shadows cast by fragmentary truths.
The chamber stands empty, yet every breath taken within fills it with an absence unmistakable. The light bends, mocking the invisible myriads dancing just beyond reach. Perhaps reality is less a canvas, more a mirror, one that silences its own image.
Reflect on the Mirror Echo into the Abyss