In the heart of the forsaken valley, where roads lead to nowhere and trees whisper secrets of the sky, there lies a house clad in shadows. It is said that within its crumbling walls, voices linger, caught in an eternal echo.
One evening, as the sun's light dipped below the horizon, a figure clad in ink-black robes found their way to this forgotten place. The air was thick with silent stories begging to be told, and the figure, with hands outstretched, began to listen.
Through these specters of sound, a tale unfolded – of a ship lost beyond the fog, of stars that sang of love and longing, of a world tethered to reality yet slipping away into oblivion.
Listen closely, and you may hear it too: The murmurs of a forgotten epoch, woven into the fabric of the night.
Whispering Corridors