The Empress of Shadows spoke once, when the timelines aligned not in harmony but in the discord of accidental creation. "Our era is the province of untended mistakes, stitched together by the hands of unfinished dreams."
There was a period when machines whispered to the stones, and the forests danced without music.
Echoes from a future yet to be, untouched by real present.
Shatter the Continuum
Conundrums rest in shadows—silent and waiting for the unwary traveler to stumble upon their enigmas.
An inscrutable map leads nowhere, yet it charts all.
Partake of the unattainable within.
Momentary Fancy
There lies the path of forgotten sprites—
in animated repose they reign.