A cry of a dog under the moon, they said it signaled the end of seasons, yet only the owl remembered. Such prophecies, doomed to obsolescence, scribbled hastily upon the palimpsest of civilization's skin. Echoes of laughter, but were they joyous? Or merely mocking the effort of understanding?
In a world where kings were once jesters, the crown of fools sat heavy. Chronicles rewritten, the ink washed away only to reveal new ignorance. Yet, the scribe remains nameless, wandering. Visit the graveyard of written words and witness the blank pages' triumph.
The tapestry of history frays at the edges. Each thread pulled reveals, not a truth, but a deeper, darker void. Truths obscured to protect the oblivious from enlightenment. A candle flickers in the chapel of denial.
As the sands of time pause momentarily, a whisper emerges: Seek the secret of the shifting dunes, where no one walks, and all are trapped in an endless loop of understanding, only to forget.