In a realm untouched by the hand of dawn, the Maze of Time unfolds—a tangle of corridors pocked with echoes of forgotten epochs. Here, silence intertwines with sighs, and shadows speak in aged tongues.
Once, a voice parting the mists revealed:
“I am not a beast, I am but a shadow; not a spirit, yet I dance in the flicker of candlelight.”
Do you know what I am?
To tread these winding paths is to embrace the ethereal dance of past and future selves, where time wears the guise of a slumbering guardian and the walls murmur tales of old.
A gentle murmur: “Step lightly, for in this maze, time itself is both a companion and a foe.”
Venture deeper if you dare into the Whispers of the Hall or seek solace in the Ancient Echoes.
Remember, traveler, the maze remembers you, even when you forget its embrace.