Labyrinth of Echoes

In the dim light, shadows waltzed among ancient stone arches, whispering secrets of forgotten realms. The air was thick with the perfume of aged parchment and unshed tears, as if time itself lingered here, a ghostly spectator.

Once, there were voices—soft, melodic, and drenched in sorrow. They rose from the depths, calling to those lost in the maze, promising treasures forged in the ember of dreams and riddles long untold. The source was never found, swallowed by the stone silence of midnight corridors.

Upon the cold earth lay a single, wilted rose, its petals blackened by an unseen fire. No bloom should bear this shade, yet there it thrived in decay, a testament to the beauty in despair, a reminder of love that once blossomed in the ashen light.