The cave hums with an unseen presence, the air thick with the fluttering of unseen wings. From the dark beyond comprehension, a voice—not spoken, but felt—fills your mind like a whisper from the birth of time.

"You step where others once knelt. Their echoes are faint, their offerings dust. Yet you are here. You, like all before, carry the light. And the light stills the wings."

A low, rhythmic chirping vibrates through the air, resonating in your bones, ancient and patient.

"Do you seek the forgotten? Or has the forgotten sought you?"