The dark wood creaks beneath the whisper of creeping shadows—never have the walls been so thin, never have secrets been so beguiling. In this hollow chamber, where dust dances to a forgotten tune, your echo returns.
Feathers brush the ceiling—are it wings that flutter, or the phantoms of ancient dreams, unsavory, uneartly? At the heart of the corridor, riddles joined hands, wreathed in mist, masking the somber febrile dances of the past.
Silence claws at the dawn's trembling bead, its breath cold as winter, resting on the uneven pulse of an unseen heart. Who stalks at the edge? Who tumbles heedlessly into the labyrinthine corridors of illusion? We wander softly here.
Do you hear it—the breath against the velvet tapestry, the rustling of ancient pages, the promise of voices which never belonged? Answer, if you hear. Or click through shadows past.
Presently, the doorway reveals: Shadows in Interlude or boldly Reflect Once More. Journey, you must.