The night descends, a velvet shroud, upon the iron-clad rooftops. Within this realm of whispers, a solitary feline wanders, its eyes, twin lanterns in a world untamed by light. Shadows embrace it as kin, a spectral entity entwined in silken stillness.
In these corridors, where echoes lament, the specter of a paw-print lingers. Once fleeting, now imprinted in the soul's tapestry. The cat, a wraith of forgotten realms, tells stories without sound, of moonlit paths untaken.
As you stroll through the forgotten passageways of the heart, embrace these questions, dear traveler. They are the cobwebs adorning the windows of your spirit. Or perchance, the shade of a yowling soul in the gloom.
The whispers fade, the night endures.
Further into the Echo