In the heart of the labyrinth, where silence is a forgotten myth, the whispers coil and unfurl through the corridors of time. Listen closely, for within the sound of disarray lies the prophecy of labyrinthine secrets.
Each step taken is a voice muted, yet the ground remembers. Feel the tremor of ages beneath your soles, silence the noise and hear it whisper back.
Should you gaze upon the obsidian pools, their depth is merely a mirror reflecting your intention. Beneath the surface, the echoes murmur tales untold, resonating vibrations both beneficial and poisonous in nature.
Seek not the end, but the cycles within cycles. Each turn is an ending, a beginning, a marvel of geometrical whispers. Return often; your presence is the echo's permanence.
Guide yourself by the inexplicable constellations which bleed silver beneath the noxious glow.