The walls breathe, gently exhaling secrets cloaked in the dust of time—
Imagine a voice,
Oscillating through the corridors of forgotten dreams, whispered through branches of the auroral fir.
It murmurs of faded colors. The echo is a return not meant to be grasped, yet here it lingers. An adrift fragment in layered tapestries of echoic silence.
An entity, unseen, approaches
yet leaves only the memory of a shadow cast upon a spectral sea.
Listen.
In the mist, it speaks again. An enchantment spiraling away toward a horizon unbroken.