Shadows dance upon the cold stone walls, flickers of long-dead light. Here, in the recesses of the old mansion, whispers linger like forgotten prayers. The air, thick with the scent of damp and dust, murmurs secrets only the brave—or the foolish—dare seek.
Your footsteps echo as you tread deeper into the abyss, casting long shadows that merge with the darkness. You sense a presence, a lingering myriad of voices, yearning to speak, mourning a loss, a betrayal. But of what? The answer lies in the silence, loud and deafening, an eternal void with tales untold.
Touch the walls, bear the chilling words etched by hands unseen. They curse, they bless, they tell of a time when spirits roamed freely, before chains bound them to this realm. Feel the coldness, the tremors of their cries, their reverberations in this empty room disturbing the peace of the eternal night.