In the shadow of the forgotten corridors,
whispers carve stories into the walls of stone,
echoing in whispers encrypted by the ages.
Each step is an omen, each turn a riddle,
where time slips, an intangible specter,
binding past and future in a woven silence.
The labyrinth, an echo in the void,
where dreams dance upon fractured light,
and the walls breathe softly.
Follow the echo, listen closely,
for it knows the path unseen.