In the hollows of silence, where whispers tremble upon the edge of thought, there exists an echo of the untold.
Pillars of memory rise from the depths, each inscribed with a fragment of a dream, suspended in the amber of forgotten time.
Fragments of Sound
Mirage of Light
The Spellbook Conjured
Navigate these passages; linger not on the shores of certainty. Listen, for the abyss speaks in riddles wrapped in shrouds of starlight.