ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

ADYSHA NAOMY
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 LISA.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

SHAZABEL SHAFAYA
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 LEILA.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

EIRLYS EVERDEEN
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 EMILY.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

THREVEN MORRENT
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 HECTOR.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

MÈYHJ RUI
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 ALEX.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
THE AIR BENDS AS STEPS CROSS THE TRESHOLD: Reality Trembling At The Intrusion. 🧿📿

We whisper in the cracks of silence, “This place was never meant for the living… and none who enter may leave.”

A scream rises from the dark. Shadows crawling like veins through rotting stone. Breath thickens the air..damp with the scent of forgotten graves. The name has been written.

FINTHWAITE LIJTH
ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤAS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ👁🫀  𓊈 DAN REY.𓊉

Eyes without faces open in the gloom, watching from every surface. The ground screams with a hunger older than time. The chorus begins, deep and unbroken: One of us. One of us. One of us.

Claws scrape across the floor, carving symbols that bleed with red light. Chronicles accepts another name into the black ledger. 𓁹

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤ🕯 Chronicles ( Paranormal Activity ): “If you’re reading this… it means you’ve already stepped too far to turn back.” 🪬

ㅤㅤ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎ ‎ DO YOU FEEL IT?

That stillness pressing against your chest..the weight of eyes you can’t see? That’s how this place greets it's guests.

ㅤChronicles ㅤisㅤ aㅤthresholdㅤ carvedㅤ intoㅤ theㅤ fabricㅤ ofㅤ theㅤ unseenㅤ withㅤthingsㅤ that ㅤneverㅤ livedㅤ inㅤ the ㅤrestlessㅤ shadows. ㅤ

We are the record of what should not exist, the voice that speaks alone and the presence that watches when the night forgets. 👁‍🗨💈