Once upon the edge of twilight, the whispering veil hung like a forgotten memory, shimmering in fragmented light. Each sliver a story, untold and unheld, waiting patiently between dreams.
Behind closed doors, the cobwebs weave themselves into mirrors, reflecting truths never spoken. And here lies the Sphinx’s Enigma: What binds time to its endless loop, if not the heart’s silent ticking? Read the Prophecy
Somewhere beneath the surface, a solitary parade of shadows dances across the phantom shore, masking their presence with echoes of laughter. Does the echo know it is itself, or is it simply lost?
Riddle of the Sliver: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I pierce through deep slumber. What am I? Find Out