Beware the rising spire, solitary among the mist. An instruction manual exists, lost between pages of history. To ascend, find the path to the manual, written in the language of forgotten deities.
Shelves bend under cloud weight, each tome decaying into dust. Follow the entropy trail silently, for sound attracts the forgotten.
Here lies the browning horizon, an echo of vibrance lost in the void. Engage with dawn dialogue to learn the whispers of time, too complex for simple minds.