"Have you heard the song sung by the shadows?"
In the quiet corners of forgotten dreams, we've whispered secrets only known to those who listen closely. Or perhaps, you simply imagine hearing them.
As I drift through the labyrinth of thoughts, sometimes the walls echo back a melody, a sound neither alive nor dead. It's just... there.
Once, a wind told me a name, an unfamiliar sound that caressed my mind with gentle insistence. "Arcthylis," it said, and I pondered its meaning long after the last note faded.
"When was the last time you spoke to a shadow?"
The depth of this question lingers in the air, tickling the edges of your consciousness. Shadows are shy, but patient.