*Aryanna*
I stood in a familiar foyer, even though it was somehow more vivid and haunting. The hallway stretched before me, lined with honey-hued wood that seemed to glow. It provided a warm invitation woven with something uncanny. Everything felt so tangible, yet each edge of this world had a spectral shimmer as if it existed in a fragile, translucent veil between reality and dream.
Distant sounds drifted to my ears, a chorus of laughter that laced around me, enticing me further inside. The walls flanking the hallway held a parade of photographs, each framed and perfectly preserved. I slowed to gaze at them, a procession of moments frozen in time. The frames were sealed with memories—my memories. Their eyes seemed to follow me. Each picture whispered its own story of the past, faint shadows of lives lived and moments lost.