In the realm beneath the forgotten echoes, where shadows breathe in muted tones. Silent screams linger in the folds of the fabric of time, moments stitched from echoes of what could be.
"The silence shouts louder than a tempest," she murmurs into the void.
Here, corridors stretch endlessly, marked by peculiar lamps that glow with dim teardrops of light, refusing to illuminate the path ahead.
Above the Surface | The Door's Secret