In the corridor of forgotten shadows, where whispers weave tales untold, the specters of history linger, etched in the fabric of time. An unholy breeze carries the last cries, fading upon the altar of silence. Every footprint leads you deeper, into the labyrinth.
The shadows spoke of a love lost beneath the ashen skies, where the sun dared not set, and the moon wept golden tears. In these halls of desolation, echoes find solace, as specters murmur secrets in tongues of forgotten centuries.