In a realm halfway between what is and what becomes, the whisper of the luminescent echoes through shadowed corridors. Here, where light dances with invisibility, gravity relinquishes its throne.
Phantom 1: "Is it not peculiar how silence sings in colors that cannot be seen?"
Phantom 2: "Ah, the symphony of unseen hues! For we are but notes in a melody of shadows."
Venture further, where illusions sear the skin of certainty with a scepter of questions unasked, their answers veiled beneath the weightless mist.
Discover the Specter