Whispers of the Wraith

In the hollows of the night, she beckoned—

her voice, a mere echo of once-vibrant dreams, now obscured in shadowed luminescence.

A deep crimson moon drapes over the forsaken streets. Shadows weave tales of sorrow, casting long fingers across the cobblestone paths.

The lanterns flicker, but not with light—

they shimmer with the souls of those who wander, lost and lamenting.

Follow the Dirge
Enter the Labyrinth