The chamber breathes, its whispers a symphony of unsung notes. They twine around pillars unseen, threads of a tapestry woven by unseen hands.
Echoes bound by gravity, yet free to dance in the twilight of silence. What do they speak of, these inaudible murmurs?
"In shadows where light fears to tread, the old stories stir, awakening the stillness."
Outside, the world moves in oblivious rhythm, but here, in this hollow expanse, time folds in on itself like a forgotten map.
Will you listen, or shall these whispers find solace in the void? Perhaps you will find paths less traveled: