In the heart of the labyrinth, a whisper, a forgotten echo: "Dare ye wander beyond the shadows?"
Grains of translucent mosaic underfoot graphs the path in forgotten tongues. Where language fades, the mosaic speaks.
Passages wind and twist like molten honey, flowing inexplicably towards realms unseen lest the heart dims.
"Turn not the corners hastily," the wind murmurs, "intuition bears the weight of blind passion."