In halls where candles weep and shadows bow, the dancers twirl through endless now. Emerald light upon their skin, a waltz that binds what lies within. No dawn will break, no door will yield, their fate in echoes long concealed. Two souls may tread where silence bloomed, to test the curse of those entombed. Beware, O heart that dares to roam, for few return from the Waltz of the Doomed.