Shadows cling to the damp stones, like memories etched in blood. They whisper secrets of ages lost, of kingdoms fallen and truths too terrible for the sun's gaze. Once, I was told of a time where roses knew only to bloom in darkness.

Listen... The air hums, vibrating with echoes of voices never heard. A child's laughter, twisted with pain, mingles with distant cries. These walls have mouths, and they hunger for innocence.

Follow the path of whispers and hear the tales they share, not for the faint of heart. For every sorrow told, a light flickers out, leaving behind only an oppressive void. Have you seen its silhouette yet?