They resonate in the twilight, these echoes; fragmented visits from shapes never seen. The halls breathe with memories unsaid, their air thick with words unwritten, cloaked in a misty darkness.
Once, shadows danced here—now only the chill remains, etching alone across cold stone. Grapes of wrath once grew, but now they only feed the impenetrable void, and sighs become echoes of lost chance.
Lonely eyed gargoyles carve disdain amidst the break and shrill every whispered truth. Would hand ever guide again light into this desolate reachan eternal causeway—Can this season yield a shivering consolation or a somber reprieve?
The path you may consider:
Enter the Chambers of Murmuring Silence
Trace the Names Never Spoke
Gaze into the Eyes of Draped Darkness