Once, in the forgotten alleys of your mind, there lay a maze without an end. Its walls whispered secrets, softly spoken by the shadows of the absent sun. Paths of twisted ivy and cobblestone obscured the sky, where the echoes of ancient fables curled like smoke. In this place, every footstep was a memory lost to time, and every turn a forgotten dream reawakened.
Inside this labyrinth, the air was thick with stories untold and once-told myths that had turned their faces from the dawn. The walls were adorned with symbols that no tongue remembered how to speak, recounting the history of those who dared to wander far beyond the dusk. Here, among the lost pathways, lies what cannot be named and yet what must be found.
The heart of the labyrinth beats quietly, a metronome for the patience of time.