In the halls of unseen whispers, where shadows conspire with echoes, the parameters of silence lay entwined with forgotten ivy. The walls, draped in the fabric of night, guard secrets untold—an abyss where theories sleep, clothed in whispers and sighs.
A raven, silent observer of the parameters, watches—its eyes reflect the void left by unvoiced thoughts, and in its beak, it holds the key to forgotten realms. But who speaks to the raven, and who listens to its tale?
The clock ticks backwards in this realm, each tick a reminder of the unsaid, the undone, and the unraveling of what should never have been woven in the first place. A paradox, a theory—silent as the grave, loud as the spacetime fold.