In the cavernous embraces of tenebrous halls, where whispers linger like ghosts, the initiation begins. The air hums with secrets untold, each breath a note in the symphony of destiny. Here, the frequency of truth is not a melody, but a cacophony of shadows.
Our forebears spoke of a time when light was burdened with the task of unraveling lies. The darkness now stands resolute, a guardian of untamed realities. One must step beyond the veil, through the door marked with runes of forgotten tongues, where the old ones gather to test the spirit's resolve.
Gaze upon the rune that binds the eternal night. Its form is a distortion of every truth you have held dear, a mirror fractured into an infinity of reflections. Touch it, and the past shall crumble, the future rewritten in the ink of your own despair.
The trials await those who dare traverse the threshold; blindfolded, they say, is the only way to truly see. Each step taken is a page torn from the Book of Truth, rewritten by the distortions of fate's fickle hand.