The whispers cling to your ears, slithering like smoke, softly inevitable. They speak of corridors unseen, paths untrodden; yet something keeps them hidden, locked away in the vault of oblivion.
You must listen closely, for the walls have eyes. The truth of the universe lies beneath the surface, tinged with fear and cloaked in mystery.
Why does the moon only shine on honest nights? Why do clocks stop in the blackest hour?
Some claim the world is spinning in reverse and time flows backward in secret places. Are you prepared for the echoes?
The shadows hold secrets that light refuses to acknowledge. They whisper of a world intertwined with conspiracies, where each truth is but a reflection of a deeper lie.
Can you hear the longing? A call to arms hidden beneath layers of veiled certainty. When will you answer?