Not the scent, but the echo of lavender beneath cobwebs. Dust motes dancing in moonless space, unseen particles that skip through spectral alleyways.
Are we mirrors, reflections cast long ago? Ramblings of autumn leaves chaotically spiraling... the crystallization of vaporous messages whispered by distant echoes.
Across labyrinthine corridors, whispers chant—an aphotic psalm echoing shadows, tracing paths through silhouettes' forgotten murmurs. Walk with us, if one can hear the voiceless footsteps.
Embrace the phosphorescent trails, luminous stains on the dark sea of silence.
Reaching, stretching through velvet realities nested within time's elusive chaotic order.