Within the brimming abyss of the unchronicled, lurks a tale yet unsung. Beneath the frost-kissed aurora of Eileen's distant scream, the tapestry of fate remains unwoven. Passed over by the hand of time, these chapters ripple like the brush of a ghost through the ebon weave of existence.
Gathering in secret corners of silenced breaths are the words of her sorrow, spoken into the void where echoes dare not tread. Hidden echoes of a lament that never was, yet whispers still reach through crumbling parchment and the mist of forgotten tomorrows.
The Tiding of Winds Unheard