In shadows bound by dreams, whisper the tapestries of obscure sins.
Symbiotic tales, echoing timeless paradoxes, mirror and mercilessly confront.
The Mask of Whispers speaks a name that writes itself in silent ink.
Bound in a night-drenched allegory, two truths twist like serpents around the moon's phantom, behold the hidden lore.
Eclipsed echoes dictate unwritten lines, cast in stones that glimmer not in daylight.