In the folds of reality sift the shadows unseen, echoes of thoughts that once whispered promise. A memory decays within the canvas of the mind, each frame capturing a moment yet unraveling story. Whispers of the Wisps cross paths here, guideless and grim.

Such is the nature of time, ever depleting and displacing the unseen reveries of forgotten dreams. They linger in corners, in crumbling pages of a book never meant to be penned. Turning pages, yet wordless. Engraved thoughts, they murmur, suspended amid dust.

What is seen becomes the seen. The unseen dwells in parallel corridors, where light hath never shone, mapping the unseen dreams that paint existence with cryptic messages. Follow the corridors to the Lost Pathways.

Was the journey ever taken? Unseen footprints lay imprinted upon avenues leadings to places uncharted. The stories you never told, the reveries that never formed breathless amid remnants of decay and time.