Veiled within the fabric of time, where shadows dare to dance among the ruins, lies an echo—a murmured prophecy of the forgotten realms and their unravelling. Imagine corridors, dark and vast, lined with the remnants of whispered destinies.
Here the clock ceased its mournful ticking, yet the worlds spun around a hushed void. Can you hear the ancients? They beckon from the abyss, their voices a symphony of bygone silences.
The pathways diverge, each a narrative of decline, inscription, and rebirth. Their patterns are webs woven by the densest twilight, chronicling the realities that once embraced the sun, now mere ghostly outlines against a starless sky.
Beneath the surface lies an eternal corridor— a passage where futures, once imagined, linger in the unyielding shadows.