In the heart of the labyrinth, where whispers fade into silence, the room awaited. Its emptiness resonated, a symphony of void woven with threads of forgotten tales. Here, the process began, not with fanfare but with a murmur that seeped through the cracks of reality.
Each step echoed against the walls of memory, reverberating like the pulse of a distant heart. The ground, uneven and ancient, told stories of those who wandered before, their shadows imprinted in the dust, waiting to be awakened.
"What is this place?" a voice asked, though the source lay hidden, swallowed by the room's vastness. The answer came not as words, but as a feeling—an inexplicable sense of belonging amidst the spiraling corridors of the unknown.
And so, the journey unfolded—not a linear path, but a cyclical dance within the echoes. Each turn brought new revelations, new questions, as the labyrinth revealed its secrets through the art of subtraction, layering its complexities with each step taken.