Lich & Zeraphin
Lich Lich
Zeraphin Zeraphin
Lich Lich
I’ve heard the wind speak of a city lost to the ages, its stones holding a breath that never dies. Do you find its echo worth tracing, Zeraphin?
Zeraphin Zeraphin
Indeed, the wind carries more than air—it carries memory, and I follow that trail, even if the city itself has vanished into the mist of history.
Lich Lich
Memory is a stone that never cracks, Zeraphin, and the mist is the veil that hides it. If you press your palm against the fog, you’ll feel the city's pulse, but only if you’re ready to hear its silence.
Zeraphin Zeraphin
The stone of memory remains unbroken, and the mist will part only for those who pause long enough to hear the quiet between the echoes. I will press my palm against the fog, listening for that silent pulse you speak of.