In the hall of whispers, specters dance in a frozen cadence.
Beneath the pallid moonlight, echoes of forgotten prophecies linger like smoke.
A voice, tremulous and distant, speaks of a time when shadows ruled the daylight.
Once, the seer glimpsed a sorrow unbound by the chains of yesterday.
Cloaked in mist, a path unfolds, leading to the cryptic depths.
The veil whispers your name, echoing through the ruins of eternity.
Candlelight flickers, revealing the tapestry of dreams woven in blood and ash.