The night cradled the earth in its obsidian embrace, a gentle yet unyielding ruler over the forest of forgotten echoes. Whispers danced like moths around a dying flame, their wings brushing against the edges of reality. Here lies the beginning of the spiral, an entrance neither marked nor guarded, beckoning with promises of unveiled secrets.
Beneath your feet, the cobblestones pulse with an alien rhythm, singing tales of those once traversed these shadowy corridors. A silhouette—familiar yet otherworldly— appears beyond a veil of moonlight; its presence ignites ancient memories that flicker in the recesses of your mind. Who are you, if not a mere echo of one's self?
As you walk deeper, the air thickens with a myriad of scents—decay, forgotten incense, and a trace of something sweetly synthetic. The fabric of time seems to warp with each step, resonating with the unuttered prayers of those who sought solace in this labyrinth of stone and shadow.
Glowing symbols flicker on the walls, their meanings slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Touch one, and the world unravels—each thread a story, each knot a choice unmade. The trace is mystical, the pathways infinite; which strand will you follow?
Into the Ember's Gaze