The moon hangs heavy upon the lake, a mirror of forgotten dreams; shadows flicker like memories in the corners of one’s mind.
In forgotten libraries, books gathered dust, their pages hum with stories yet untold; they wait, silent, for ears to listen.
A bird, feathered in obsidian, perched upon the ledge of reality, chirps in tones like echoes of a past never lived.
Footsteps trace an unmarked path across the edges of an unspoken truth—
Where do they lead? Only deeper into murky fathoms.