"Whispers once etched upon stone," she murmured to the echoes that never ceased, "confide in those that linger, in shadows cast by the unsaid."
A spectrum of illuminated ages, where ink bleeds eternity, only to meet the fervor of a nameless dusk. Does remembrance bear witness, or do its witnesses wear masks of oblivion?
Every age defends its glory by martyring a truth. The silence between epochs is the sanctuary of the forgotten. Yet like all truths, they know not their rebellion to the time-teller.
Dreamscape | Devancescent Echoes | Winter Refrains