Through the dimly lit corridor, echoes of a long-lost era linger, suffused with a peculiar static. The air is thick, a veil of whispers cloaking the remnants of forgotten times. Here, memories resound in shadows, each flicker an unanswered question, each sigh a secret untold.
"In the silence, they speak. Murmurs like etched echoes unravel amidst the shrouded wallpaper. What soft lies do you tell yourselves, as the clock's hands graze eternity?"
Shadows whisper your name in tones woven from despair and longing. A hint of presence, neither here nor there, haunts the periphery. As you stride into the void, the chill of static grasps at your sanity, unriddled notes dripping from silent crescendos.
Enter the Dusk Hall