The labyrinth holds secrets, not of monsters or untold treasures, but of the echoes that live in the sighs of forgotten dreams. Each corridor a passage through the mind, where silent screams weave the fabric of darkness. Here, the walls remember every word not spoken, every thought buried deep beneath the sands of time.
Reflective pools, the size of memories, ripple with the ghosts of what might have been. You stand at the edge, peering into the depths, where shadows morph into images of clarity—of paths untaken and journeys unmade. The screams resonate, not with sound but with truth. A truth only revealed in the labyrinth's embrace.
The way winds onward, through corridors that seem to know your name. With every step, the earth whispers stories of ages past, of wanderers who dared to dream in the depth of night. Yet, this is no ordinary dream. It is a reflection of the self, hidden beneath layers of time, whispering, echoing.
And in the silence, there is a choice—paths you may walk again, or perhaps for the first time. Each choice a silent scream, a testament to the darkness that cradles the light of understanding.
Mirrored Echoes | Wisps of the Past