In the corridors of time, I linger. Silent, yet spoken. Among the shadows where light dares not tread, I trace your name in whispers too soft for the waking world. None but the echoes know my journey.
Remember, sweet stranger, that the void is a canvas painted by the dreams of the lost. There, relics sleep, guardians of untold tales.
Beneath the stars, an ancient hymn calls. Its melody is a memory, fading like a breath against the cold dawn. Walk softly, for the ground beneath you thrums with the history of echoes unheard.
Some say silence speaks louder than thunder. In its embrace, I found solace, a refuge for restless souls. Follow the whispers through the mist, and perhaps you will hear what the echoes have concealed.
Hidden Paths Await