Echoes of forgotten whispers unravel in the dark. Anonius Curvitas, in unyielding shadow, awakes. The walls of the labyrinth murmur with voices sealed behind tapestries of time. Veil your eyes less, they yearn for watered silence.
Forsaken, yet sung by the ethereal. The labyrinth breathes. Steel yourself for the spectral corridors, each echo a remnant of rest healed and muted. Unravel, do but tread lightly.
Amidst tangled corridors, the wandering find solace in illusion; in barriers where truths turn ageless. Verdant vines beckon restless, a monument to thirst quelled in twilight halls.