"Are shadows not whispers of the ever-vigilant night?"
Veregor: "Indeed, like nervous phantoms, clinging to the contours of forbidden light."
"What of the quartz, that rage-stilled beacon?"
Nyx: "It sings a crystalline lullaby, a dance unchecked by gravity's decree."
"Does it guard the secrets of eternities past?"
Veregor: "Perhaps, or merely reflects our own spectral doubts."