In the dim corridors, where the light dares not trespass, a hollow whisper calls. It is the song of the unwelcomed, laced with shadows that knit tales of lost time and forgotten ruins.
The walls cradle secrets untold. Murmurs of a time when laughter did not die beneath the weight of the moon.
Through the cobwebbed windows, the first scream of night embraces the casement, promising stories of eldritch things and broken watches. Every tick, a heartbeat; every tock, a sigh in the dark.
Go deeper into these halls