In the dim glow of candles long expired, there lies the story of a Duke so revered, his shadow dared not stray from the flicker of light. Yet, mirrors told tales not of this world, revealing the Duke's spectral visage as he navigated the labyrinth of his own creation.
"What returns not, but returns again?" whispers the old reflection. An echo of knights clad in tarnished honor, traversing ever-still corridors where specters dance upon the stone with hollow laughter.
Rumors creep like cold vapors, rumor of an eternal banquet, where the wine is shadows and the bread is sorrow. Guests arrive, weep and wail, with faces inked in the tales of yore, and vanish as swiftly as they enter.
The Duke himself, a stranger in a timeworn mirror, walks trails unfinished, where his voice once held dominion. Stumbling through echoes and forgotten names, seeking the whisper that calls without ever calling.
To the southeast lies a door of no return. A promise unremembered binds it, a sigil wrought of grief, crowned by thorns. The air solidifies in dread—an offering to mysteries best left veiled.
Explore the Hidden Passage Whispers of Conspiracy