In the heart's crypt lies the Labyrinth of Echoes, where dreams lose their shapes at dawn.
Twilight converges into an endless scroll of faintly remembered tales. A reflection of reflections, whispered; a passage of phantoms unseen.
Here, the elders spoke of distorted truths, shrouded in mists of spectral clarity. Do you see already what once could not have been seen?
Anxiously, the door creaks with time's lingering touch, revealing passages where light bends in deceptions of a celestial stone.