These corridors whisper forgotten tales.
The walls hold stories of decay, and dust settles like history atop every shelf. Here, knowledge is not untarnished wisdom but a rumpled blanket over intricate gears rusting quietly in the shadows. An old clock ticks somewhere, though its face is long obscured.
Explore DustIn the recesses of time, silence speaks the loudest.
The echo of footsteps remains, though it's been an age since anyone trod these pathways. The books watch from their crumbling perches, their stories bleeding out into the air itself—a hushed testament to their own being. Here, futures and pasts intertwine like whispers made of mist.
Under The Curtain