Beyond the veil where light dares not wander, the phantoms hum in echoes of forgotten dreams. The shadowed intervals whisper secrets to those who dare to listen. Do you feel the phantom footsteps?
The clock chimes, but the hands see not the urgency. Tick, pause, tick, the shadows dance to an eternal rhythm. Follow the echoes.
When stars murmur and the wind carries echoes of another time, what stories do the shadows tell? The path forks, but only the bold know where they tread. Are you one of the bold?
In the dim recess of twilight, intervals mark the passage of worlds unseen. The constellations form a map, yet the stars keep their secrets. Listen close, the shadows speak in riddles. Enter the riddle.
As the phantom footsteps fade, you are left with the intervals — the spaces between moments — holding, perhaps, the true essence of time itself. Open the portal.