The roads diverge beneath the pocked shadow of forgotten dreams, as whispers of yesterdays echo through the mist. Paths lined with brittle autumn leaves and fractured memories scream in silent hues of despair and hope. Clarity is but an illusion here.
Decisions hang heavy in the air, like dew on a spider's web at dawn. Each step taken is a step unimagined, an action of consequence concealed behind veils of a fractured truth. Are we the architects of our destiny, or mere marionettes dangling on threads of fate?
Choose your illusion: Mirror of Mist | Dream Door
The horizon blurs as the light fades, where the impossible meets the undeniable truth.