Drifting beyond the horizon where the echoes whisper secrets to the wind; nimble shadows dance upon invisible strings, pulling at the edges of dreams. The path, it twists like a forgotten song, humming softly in a language lost to time—unspoken words written in the silver dusk above.
A flicker here, a quiver there—reality shimmers, slipping from the grasp like fleeting mist. Hands reach out, but find only twilight. Listen... do you hear? The murmur of the cosmos, weaving tales of old and new, of what was and what might be. They spiral, they spiral... into the heart of the labyrinth.
The door is open, but not quite there... a mirage perhaps, or simply a veil of thought. Walk through the doorway of illusion; let the whispers guide you to Echo or perhaps the Whispering Tide.