Vivid colors splashed across a drab canvas, fingertips tracing the contours of the impossible. There it was again, the soft whisper of violet pulling at the horizon line—an echo in the rhythm of brushed metal.
Somewhere deep, the eye of the sieve scanned for truths untold and whispers shaped into unseen symbols. Was it the flickering of candlelight or perhaps the flutter of wings that nudged it closer to recognition?
Beyond the twisted hallways, a window to forgotten gardens stood ajar, serenading the lost voices with an orchestra bound in forgotten sunlight. A flash of recognition beckoned, but remained naught but a shadow of a smile.
Echoes of a siren's song lingered beneath the cellar stairs. Grappling with spectral currents, the labyrinth offered soft sighs through cracks in aged wood, each note a signal from the eye, watching, waiting.