In the quiet heart of forgotten rooms, memories bleed. Fragments speak through echoing silence; they plead, they linger. Midnight drapes itself over the walls like old velvet, thick with dust and secrets.
The marbled steps below recall the tremors of timid souls, a library of shadows caught in their ebbs. Words once flourished here, like weeds breaking through cracked stone, and now... silence reigns.
There lies a frayed curtain, within its folds a world of gatherings undone. If one extends their fingers, will they draw forth the voices from the void? (listen)
Shadows gambol outside of the flickering gaslamp’s gaze, dancing like forgotten hopes. Demons of nostalgia whisper through the cracks, drawing forth thin, rasping breaths. Hearts tremble remotely, yearning for what slipped into an old song's refrain.
Will you descend further into the unknown? In dark corridors, those whispers often weave tales reminiscent of wounds that birthed creation.
(explore more)