In the labyrinthine corridors of tomes and tapestries old, where shadows feast upon light, whispers of sound coil like serpents around the heart. They speak in tongues, clashing and weaving, echoes of eternity trapped in mortal lulls.
The murmurs beckon, a symphony of toxic sweet resin, an opera of dark orchids blossoming in midnight's depth. Hearken to the shadows' crescendo that balances the scale between oblivion and awakening.
And so, the endless loop of celestial whispers narrates stories of sirens and solitudes, of hearts entrained in transmuting rhythms. Join them, follow their diverse patterns with each note a step into the abyss.