The machines murmured secrets the moon only dared to listen to. Whispers from gears that once turned the stars into clocks.
Do you hear their dreams? the echoing silence reverberates through winding shafts filled with forgotten lullabies.
The heart made of steel and solitude, pulsing with memories no mortal should keep. Yet here we are, caught in its labyrinth.
Machines are oftentimes guardians of the in-between hours, when shadows stretch and sense dissolves.