Time, relentless and indifferent, devours all that it touches. Empires rise and fall, their once-glorious edifices reduced to crumbling shadows.
What was once a vibrant tapestry of life—a bustling city, a sacred temple, or a thriving marketplace—fades into silence, swallowed by the earth and obscured by nature's slow reclamation.
The ruins, fractured and worn, stand as mute witnesses to the passage of centuries. Stone walls, once polished and proud, are now softened by moss and erosion, their sharp edges blunted by the weight of years.
The intricate carvings etched by hands long gone are weathered into illegible patterns, their meanings lost to the very sands that sought to preserve them. What stories they once told are buried beneath layers of dirt and indifference, forgotten by those who once revered them.
The air hangs heavy over such places, thick with the ghosts of what was. No birdsong dares to pierce the quiet; even the wind, gentle though it may be, carries with it a sense of reverence, as if unwilling to disturb the sanctity of the forgotten.
The world outside moves on, unaware of these ancient scars—too preoccupied with its own ceaseless march toward an uncertain future.
But silence is rarely empty. Beneath the stillness lies a hum, faint yet persistent, as if the land itself remembers.
Memories linger in the cracks of stone, in the roots that twist through broken floors, in the shadows that stretch across abandoned corridors. They are fragments of a history unspoken, a story never meant to be told.
In these places, time does not simply pass—it becomes a weight, pressing down on the earth and everything within it.
The ruins are not merely remnants of what was; they are tombs for truths deemed too dangerous, too painful, or too damning to survive. The secrets they guard are not preserved in libraries or chronicles but in the silent agreement of decay.
Here, in this forgotten corner of the world, history hides in plain sight, buried in ruins that hold no name.
The stones remember, but their voice has been silenced, leaving behind only echoes. And yet, for those who linger long enough, who listen closely enough, the echoes might still be heard—a whisper that defies time, daring to reshape the present with the weight of the past.
Some stories, after all, are forgotten not by chance but by necessity.
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MIX-UP (JossGawin)
FanfictionBoys Love - Romance Comedy - Paranormal Romance The original writing of this story was an alternative universal mix between JossGawin and UpPoom, I wanted a friendship and silly love story of Tong and Joe with their boyfriends that is beyond their e...
