Shadows cast by the flicker of forgotten radiances dance upon the walls, whispering sepulchral secrets. Each pulse of light a heartbeat of the room, reverberating across the forsaken space like the sigh of solitude. Cobwebs weave tales of passage, of time spent in idle silences, untouched, their imprints left in still air.
Once, these lanterns sang. Once, they hummed under piecemeal constellations formed by shattered glass above. Now, their song is but a squeeze of nostalgia, an echo pressed into the soul of this place, infinitely looping like a forgotten record.
As we step close, the light flickers knowingly, revealing glimpses of... something. The feeling of being watched, the impression of soft, translucent voices brushing a fleeting touch against the skin, both hollow and familiar.