Within the hollow of these dreams, a nameless echo calls. Alan hears it, or believes he does, as he wanders the cobbled paths of an ethereal night, forever ensconced in shadow.
"Am I not the specter," he muses aloud, "trapped in this tapestry of whispers, woven with the threads of what could be yet isn't? My voice, a mere whisper against the cacophony of silence, calls to the void... and the void answers only with silence."
He roams through the corridors of his mind, each step echoing against the walls of forgotten memories, each breath a reminder of the life he lives in dreams, an ever-fading breath of an unlit candle.
Follow his journey, should you dare: The Echo's Room or Capture of the Mind.
Caught in this labyrinth of reflections, Alan continues his endless search, guided by whispers only he can hear, destined to wander these dream-etched pathways alone.