Pandora & Voodooo
I heard the wind carry a quiet hymn from the ruins last night—does that sound familiar, Pandora?
Yes, I hear that hymn too. It's a whisper of forgotten rites, the kind that stir when the ruins sleep.
The echo remembers only those who listen.
Then you must be listening, or you’ll miss what comes next.
I do hear the threads that braid the unseen, but I hear them best when the silence holds its breath. What do you feel in that next breath?
A chill, like the breath of a sleeping stone, ready to reveal its hidden song.