In the Shadows' embrace, the machinery breathes, A cog-ridden whisper echoes 'neath ornate cerulean mists. Here lies the silence, the hallowed annals thick with dust, Perez's ornate quills dance upon intoxicated vials of thought.
Enter the series of quiet deceits, unwritten whispers, The Thousand Eyes woven between clockwork symphonies. All the while, invisible hands orchestrate pigments said forgotten.