The darkness cracks, revealing paths rarely trod, where dreams lay entwined with static whispers, the echo of forgotten tales.
In the hushed silence, beneath the cobwebs of dusk, an old lullaby begins to play—an aria of shadows, forgotten by time and untouched by light.
"We stand upon the precipice," she murmured, her voice a mere shadow, only faintly touching the edges of reality. "Do you not hear the song of the forsaken?"
Beyond the threshold, the air vibrates with spectral harmonies. Each note a promise broken, each chord a memory lost to the void.
The walls weep stories of those who have come before—lost souls wandering aimlessly, seeking the light only to find themselves entangled in the dream-static that binds this cursed place.