In the dim-lit corners where shadows dance, a voice like crumbling parchment beckons. Its words are the howl of a thousand lost souls, yearning for comprehension amidst the engulfing darkness. Lunatic yammerings spill like ink from a shattered quill, dripping with the essence of forgotten truths.

Consider the raven, perched upon the pallid skull. Its caw is a cipher, unraveling mysteries embedded deep within the marrow of existence. Yet, dare not question the cipher, for it answers with silence sharper than a surgeon's blade.

Words etched in blood upon the cobwebbed walls whisper: "The dead dream of the living." Do these decrees bear weight, or are they mere echoes of a mind untethered? Revel, if you will, in the sweet insanity of perception.

Journey deeper through the labyrinth of thought to unravel further enigmas: Conundrum or ponder upon the Whispers.