In the echoing corridors where no feet tread, the whispers of the moon linger in shadows long cast. Once, the hushed phantoms roamed beneath the silver gaze, but now, only the chill of forgotten dreams remains.
There, in the echo, a voice weaves tales of the night. The stars, unblinking witnesses, hold secrets too heavy for mortal tongues. Listen closely as the night breathes; hear the songs of the hollow path leading to the lunar throne.
Wander further into the echo