Before it's too Late

I'm the bad guy Again

Life is a Gift

We're doing well, I think

Four silhouettes move in unison through hollow corridors where silence clings to rust and memory. Shadows float along empty highways, thoughts blur in the gloom, and the pulse of forgotten iron beats faintly beneath the surface. Ghostly dances unfold in the mist, rain dissolves into fragments of memory, and lanterns glow with fading dreams. In the stillness that follows, silence takes on its final form: four lions carved from the breath of eternity.

We're doing well, I think

Sage Scriptor

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