A choir of shadows weeps in absentia, for the moon's touch has gone awry. In the heart of the storm, a cipher lies entwined with cobwebs, yearning for the delicate hands of a whispering ghost.
Decode, if you dare, the echo of forgotten tongues. Beneath the ashes of time may rest:
Your heart, a vessel: the key to unlocking the spectral ode lies within. Tread softly, for the winds carry tales of woe.
Seek more in the labyrinth of veiled corridors, or perhaps the whispering shadows know more than the silent stone walls of the crypt.