In the obelisk of time, shadows gather uninvited. When the clock strikes silence, whispers of the lost gently shatter the night. They dance, these spectral tendrils, weaving tapestries of forgotten tales.
Are you not an echo of the hidden? A flicker of remnants unable to dwell? Each breath carries the distinct scent of dust, like memories clinging tight to sepulchral stones.
Beyond the void... the hub displaces the familiar, shifting landscapes of sorrow into halls of serpentine anticipation. Life, cousins of shadows, breathing dreams in unison.
Unravel the Silent Whispers