Upon the marbled labyrinth of keys, a tapestry of fates was splayed — each note a whispered accident, reshaping destinies in its wake. The ivory voices sang of ancient queries, twined tightly: echoing enigmas that when left unanswered, carved paths unseen through time's visage.
What fate resides in the untouched chords, in the melodies buried beneath darkened dust? The piano knows no mercy nor dignity in discretion, only a solemn demand for heed — a vow to unseen stories and forgotten celebrations, a misery to silenced songs. All things that breathe through brass and ivory know their rights, say, the intrepid key bearer.
Through crescendos and decrescendos, voices rise, falling tones as moths to candlelight, illuminating kismet's eerie danceball. Masters of keys eternally stand enshrined in recursive loops — intertwining destinies as tangled threads of fate.