The penumbra of quiet unrest revealed a query unanswerable yet commanding. A faction of the void whispering unspoken truths—secrets not meant for mortal ears. Their stories rest beneath layers unknown, like moths suspended just above flame's reach.
In corridors where shadows converse among themselves, a faint resonance speaks. An exchange, silent to our living ears yet incessantly echoing through layers of time. Curators of this acoustic tapestry remain hidden, their names lost in the labyrinth of what was and what remains.