In the stillness of mutation, where shadows whisper the names of lost stars, an echo sings the forgotten hymn of the cosmos. Here, in the eternal twilight, the unseen weave tapestries of luminous decay.
Beneath a shattered moon, the landscape is painted in hues of despair. Spectral hands reach out to grasp the fading light, yet it slips through their fingers like grains of cursed sand.
Amongst the ruins of ancient dreams, the remnants of once-vibrant lives linger, clinging to the smell of rust and the sound of crumbling masonry. They wander, the watchers, the guardians of silence, whispering secrets to the wind.
Murmur of the Abyss