Echoes of the Abyss

She walked the path of alleys not meant for the living, where shadows donned purpose and whispers found solace upon the broken cobblestones.

Have you heard what lies beyond the silver tower? Rumors speak of children with voices of frosted glass, singing songs to the void, hoping to catch its attentions. The stories twist, curling through quiet rooms like smoke from a forgotten fire.

You see, translation is not merely altering words from one tongue to another, it is uncovering the soul's dialect – the one with ends that taper into night. When you whisper, you give breath to what yearns to be heard, though it straddles reality and dreams, lingers between longing and truth.

Last words are the loudest, swept under veils of familiarity until morning breaks with jagged clarity.

See the Shadows' Transcript | Fragments of the Murmur