In the shadowed halls of forgotten institutes, where the air trembles with unsaid words, the whispers gather like mist upon morning dew. Here lies the realm of the hidden, the consciousness entwined with dreams and illusions.
"Listen closely," the wind murmurs, "for the truth dances just beyond your vision."
An unseen entity, watching, waiting. Silent.
Consciousness flickers like candlelight in a forgotten crypt. The echoes are the only witnesses to the truth buried beneath layers of time.
Benedictions