"Here in the hollow expanse of deserted history, the echoes question the echoes."
Footsteps once danced here, but now only their whispered taunt remains; a satirical ballet with no audience. Irony strides alongside remorse, hand in phantom hand.
Do you hear them as they plot the next ill-fated expedition into yet another chamber of secrets, alliances brokered between shadows and light? A screenplay unwritten, where acts rehearsed only end in humorous farce.
Tradition decrees we question permanence, yet here you will find nothing permanent save the absence of things that matter.
Want to ponder similar mysteries that lead you in circles? Visit the Whispering Archives or the Timelost Enigmas.