"Once, the rivers whispered the secrets of time,"
"but the mountains, steadfast witnesses, remained resolute." Voices that travel beyond the tangible, lost in the folds of translucent memories, unravel what was thought untouchable.
"In dreams of yore, we walked paths unlit by suns," the echoes lament, resonating through the corridors of forgotten truths.
Each stone tells tales of skies that we once knew, reflected now in the weep of the moon.
"Reverent shadows dance upon the precipice," they murmur, "as dogma crumbles like ash.
A truth sings softly beneath the skin of reality, hidden in the creak of an ancient door now ajar.
Return to the echo chamber or seek the whispering night.