In the hushed chambers where no moonlight dares cast its glow, lies a vocabulary marooned in endless night. Words hang like ethereal phantoms, ephemeral and haunting, their meanings swallowed by the void's vast appetite.
Subtle silhouettes whisper in the void, conjuring incantations from the ancients' tomb. Each syllable, a shiver traversing the spine of creation, entwined with shadows and cosmic pines.
Jaundiced light touches neither truth nor tales, for in the cradle of the abyss, destinies unravel gently, woven into the tapestry of forsaken parlance, where every utterance is a cosmic dust settles on eternity.