It’s the middle of the night and you’re exploring this house that was destroyed around World War II. It was supposed to have a ton of dead bodies from the war, but you kept hearing the same riddle over and over again that was so creepy.

“Will you ever preserve? Will you ever exhume? Will you watch petals shed from flowers in bloom? Nothing can live up to promise, nothing can stop its narrative Nothing in place of catalysts and you'll never be pure again” the creepy voices would say