Somewhere in a distant whisper, the echo of a bygone era lingers.
Shadows dance upon the walls of forgotten dreams,
where the stories of young moons are etched in silver dew.
Murmurs in the Fog
A silent witness to the passage of time, this place breathes
the sighs of those who wandered too far, too soon.
The clock never told its secrets, and clocks themselves
became relics, stored in the attic of reason,
where rust sings melodies lost in translation.
Explore the trace of your footsteps: Trace Your Hollow.