Within the passageways of absence, a curious symphony formed. It danced between shadows and inhabited echo-less rooms. The protagonists—three lost souls—navigated these corridors woven from nothingness.
Emma, Vincent, and Amina were not familiar with this realm. It stretched endlessly. Each turn a new door into obliquity. Silence, a canvas painted with unseen vibrato, lingered in the air. They came seeking sound and instead found vacant melodies humming in missed whispers.
In this soundless orchestration, they spoke—to the walls, to the void, to themselves. Words became notes, notes became silence again. And yet, a song without beginning or end lingered, cradling their uncertain journey.
Close your eyes, said Emma, listening with her skin. Can you hear it? There’s a rhythm beneath the quiet. Vincent, ever the skeptic, shook his head. It’s just us walking. The echoes of our own disbelief, he declared.
But Amina smiled. A melody formed in the steps we took, Vincent. Like footprints in sand. And suddenly, the labyrinth sang—a low hum that even words could not encapsulate.