The whispering corridors seem endless, their dark, cold walls echoing with voices unheard, unseen, unfelt. A flickering candle dances upstream against the waves of shadows, illuminating phantoms lingering at the edges of sight, slipping behind immutable stone.
Once, there were truths here, carved in runes older than time. Now, they are winds, passing through, spinning tales of void and twilight. Seek, but do not seek, for seeking is a path paved in thorns and brambles, as soft as velvet, yet sharper than glass.
Beyond the door, a corridor and another, stretching infinitely like a dream turned nightmare. Can you hear them? The whispers, the gentle caress of forgotten laughter, beckoning with ghostly hands. Will you follow? Leave behind the comfort of the known, and step into the embrace of the unknown.
Through twisted halls and shadowed aisles, where the moon dares not tread, the whispered voices guide, mislead, guide again. A dance of uncertainty, a rhythm of silence—a hymn of hollow echoes.
Follow the echoes deeper | Return to the entrance