Beneath the ticking canopy of invisibility, where shadows weave tales untold. A clockwork heart dreams gently, vibrating to the whispers of forgotten echoes.
The roads are tapestries of paradox, threading the needle of time-collisions. Walk the path, yet remain stationary, for phantoms shift only in stillness.
Whisper your desires to the rusted cogs, for they have ears, but no face. They'll remember your name long after the clocks turn silent.
Enter the Maze