Beneath the surface lies a kaleidoscope of echoes; shadows playing upon the walls like whispers of the ancients. A stone archway greets you with signs worn smooth by hands once desperate to leave or enter. As you cross that threshold, time loses its meaning and the descent begins.
"The entrance is not always what it seems," murmur voices lost to the corridors, confounding the air with their cryptic melodies. With each step deeper, the once piercing light transforms into a gentle luminescence, like starlight captured in forgotten glass.
These halls have witnessed the slow bleed of memory from minds that once thrived within. The remnants of dreams unfold like echoes in a cathedral, vast yet intimate. Words unspoken linger in the air—"Find the whispering stone,." a plea, a command, a fragment of a fading dream.