In the heart of a forgotten dream, where shadows cower and daybreak dares not tread, lies the echo of what never was. Here, amid the cobwebs of light and the sullen murmur of unspoken tales, the air shivers with the remnants of ancient sighs.
Upon the altar of memories, fragments of sunlight cling to the edges of reality, weaving a tapestry of golden threads interspersed with the inky black of looming night. A sepulchral dance, a hymn of silence, this place is a cradle for lost whisperings.
Shadows flicker with the pulse of forgotten hearts, and the voice of the night sings through the crumbling stones of this ephemeral sanctuary. Touch the void, feel the silence; here lies the specter of possibility, fading with each breath of the waking world.
Venture deeper into the echoing maze, if you dare, to discover realms yet unbirthed: The Whispered | That Could Be