A whisper travels the corridors of a sunken realm, where shadows breathe and colors melt. The floor is woven from echoes of forgotten dreams, leading the way to a door that might never have been.
Among chandeliered forests of crystalline dusk, the wind tells stories. The Clockmaker, with gears for hands, chisels moments into eternity, yet none remember the sound of their tick-tock. Was it a lullaby, or perhaps a dirge, sung by worlds colliding in cosmic dance?
In the subsiding twilight, a lone traveler finds a letter sealed with moths' wings and ancient sigils. Inside, a map sketched by unseen hands, leading only to the known unknowns and forgotten remember-whys. To linger is to forget, to lose oneself in the labyrinth of the evermore.
Step into the Veil Beyond the Glass Door