In the creaking shadows of the forgotten halls, a voice, disembodied and echoing, recounts the steps one must tread. Step lightly, for each footfall upon the dust of ages speaks volumes.
"To uncover the silenced truths," it begins, "one must seek not the obvious path, but rather trails woven by the unseen. Look for the trace of whisper, the hint of presence, where light meets darkness."
An unseen hand guides you through corridors of memory. The voice persists: "To find the way, follow the rhythm of the uncounted seconds. In every flicker of candlelight, every crackle of ancient parchment, know this—time is a thread, stitching a tapestry of the known and the forgotten."
Curiously, the air thickens as you approach the portal. Its whispers hasten, revealing their secrets only to those brave enough to silence their own thoughts. The guide's instruction is clear, yet it is the silence that speaks volumes.