Darkest Whispers

A velvet mist envelops the room, while an echo reverberates in forgotten tongues.
In these labyrinthine corridors, the whispers emerge: secrets of the dwellers that time
has stolen away. Stand before the mirror, can you hear them?

The mage spoke in hushed tones, "In mirrors, I see not myself but the phantom of
what could have been. Show me again, the visage etched by choices in shadow."

Their words drift like smoke through air untouched, a labyrinth devoid of structure.
Mirrors hold more than mere reflections; within their silvery bounds, realities class in
silent accord. Dare the observer step closer?

Invoke the Mirror

Discover more in the maze: