Within the endless corridors of brass and steam, where echoes bleed into the symphony of ticking gears, a solitary figure wanders. The air hums with secrets of time, the kind that slips through the fingers like grains of sand in a fractured hourglass.
In every shadow, a whisper mimics the past; every footfall is an echo of a forgotten dream. Here, in this realm of clockwork mimicry, the walls remember what the heart forgets. An unseen hand, relentless in its precision, aligns the moments into a pattern only it understands.
"And so the pendulum swings, endlessly, endlessly..." a voice murmurs, though no one stands to claim the lament.
The gears clatter softly, a lullaby with no beginning and no end, as the wanderer presses onwards, drawn by the siren call of ticking time. The heart of the clock beats with a rhythm all its own, a cadence that dances to the whims of its silent, unseen conductor.
Beyond the horizon of this metal sea, the future stands waiting, cloaked in mystery. Will you turn the key and step through the portal of possibility, or will you linger within this maze of echoes and shadows?