Shadows twist and bend, the corridors hum. In the silence, whispers become music. The labyrinth is a lover's confession, written in the language of echoes.
Seek not the winding path, but the heart within the maze. Follow the specters lingering at the cusp of dawn.
Transgress through the thoughts of those who once walked these halls, their stories carved by time's indifferent hand.
Links weave through lost passages: /murmurs/nemesis /labyrinth/reverberate