Upon the crestfallen hill, tales of Nyx's lament linger. The road wraps around the peak like a raven's talon, eager to clutch a wanderer.
In the hollows of oblivion, where light dares not tread, shadows converse in dialects of despair and joy. Anima, shaped by dreams unremembered, beckons from the dusk.
Whispers ride the breeze, delicate as spider silk, carrying the echo of an ancient clock's chime. Somewhere, lost in the folds of time, lies the key to the eternal jest.
Shattered SilenceThe sepulchral wind recounts tales of Meridith, the achingly lovely, whose tear formed the moon in her fight against the endless night.
Cursed to roam the twilight, her song lingers on vine-wrapped doorways, a melody waiting for a brave heart to embrace its sorrow.
The stars, indifferent as a cat upon a sulking demon's shoulder, watch and whisper amongst themselves secrets older than the tide.
Vortices of Memory"Beyond the veil, I see time pluck the strings of reality like a weary guitarist, lost in the fog of ages past..."