From the conch, a voice—unearthly, yet familiar—spoke of the Lumen's passage, an echo tethered to the gothic cathedral towers, swaying in the byzantine winds.
The refractors gather in the nocturnal tide, aligning as phantoms of mist-strewn operates, their opaque lights flickering like souls adrift beneath the moon's vigil.
A mermaid once sang here, her voice a lament for the lost hearts who dared dance upon the sea cliffs, their shadows now a tangible echo within the shell's spirals.