In the land of shiny regrets, truth bends like spoons in the twilight. Here lies the mirror's promise, unspoken and foreboding.
Once, in a time of yonder days, the crescent moon mocked the shadows of the past. Mirrors whispered tales of grandeur—that never were.
The clock ticks its irony, hands clasped in a forgotten dance. Would you follow the crescent's glow or plunge into the abyss of self-reflection?