Voices woven thick in a tapestry of gleaming twilight.
They call not to be understood; rather, they unravel with the grace of shadows.
The incense of forgotten dreams clings, as phantoms of song dissolve in the void.
Stumble across the notes, the letters whisper their wishes—
and down the haunting corridor, a serenade punctuates your silence.
The door remains ajar, trespass into whispers: Murmurs.
A wheel that never turns yet awaits.
An invitation composed of echoes—
seek clarity in their discordance, Retrograd.
Beyond every turn, a riddle rests its eye. And yet,
the truth maligns those with radiant sight—Conversant.