In the bowels of the earth, where silence holds an eternal dominion, the luminescent whispers speak in tongues alien yet familiar.
Ebon walls etched in histories forgotten by time itself.
They resonate with a glow that bends sanity—an effulgent contradiction to the engulfing dark.
Theories spiral, fractal in their nature—echoing through caverns with no light but the spectral kind; corridors whispered upon by spirits that touch with unseen hands; fraying edges where boundaries blur.
Imagine if you will, the fractals of these whispers; their patterns intertwine, weave tales woven without purpose yet meaningful in their chaotic simplicity.
Shadow lectures to the timid light, confident in its embrace.