In the crumbling confines of the abbey where time, like a slumbering beast, stirs restlessly,
the air is thick with whispered secrets, unraveled by the unseen hands of twilight.
The once-vibrant corridors are now threads of darkness woven through dust and the echoing silence of what was.
An ancient lamentation escapes the tangled roots that pry upon the cracked stone floors,
whilst shadowed entities linger at the edge of perception, a mere breath from the shattering of dreams.
Listen closer to the detritus of bygone ages, where time is merely a cycle of decay.