The wind, a silent companion, whispers stories of forgotten paths.
Ghosts linger where we dare not tread, their touch a memory upon our necks, chill and fleeting.
The edge of oblivion is not a void, but rather the soft sigh of time let go, gently cradling all that once was.
In the darkness, echoes of laughter and tears entwine, a symphony of unremembered life weaving through the air.
Wander, beyond what was:
Distant Trails,
Whispered Echoes,
Silent Colors
Gaze into the shadows and see what has been, what has yet to be.
Return to the murmurs of the past:
Forgotten Word,
Lightless Labyrinth
Eternity holds no regrets, only the silent unfolding of stories told by those who have seen the edge.