Within these shifting sands, forgotten whispers coalesce. voices lost between yawning chasms of time and constance. A clock ticks backward, unraveling every sigh, every vow slipped between the folds of chaos, fragments of a forgotten melody ripple like sunlight on a sea long gone...
faint traces, buried in velvet shadows beneath ancient stones, speak in rhymes that dance further as silence descends. Here lies The Rotunda, a keeper of yesternight tales where the tapestry of now threads through whispers filled with blooms of twilight dew...
Take heed, wanderer... when the winds wail cold through cavernous remembrances, you might just hear the echoes sigh your name, ever so distant and dusted over with the glittering frost of yore.