In a realm caught between the flicker of dawn and the rumble of eternal night, an ethereal vortex spins low. It is a crooked spiral, a combination of specter-sighs and wishes past.
Curly wisps emerge from its very core, beckoning with laughter frozen — distantly familiar, eerily enchanting. Do they offer warmth or promises dipped in the essence of shadows?
At its brim, the ol' castle looms, reaching claws of stone into the black abyss, where dreams and nightmares conspire. Wishing wells whisper, but their voices are drowned, swept into the whirlpool's dance.
Somewhere nearby, cobwebbed secrets linger, draped across the corners of forgotten desires. They mumble tales of figures concealed in cloaks, weaving once-forgotten lines into the future's fabric, stitching outcomes that unravel unexpectedly.
Find the unseen paths that parallel the winds and speak a wish that echoes forever: Delicate Grave
or perhaps tread lightly through the Swirled Dream.