TEMPLE OF DIGITAL ASCENSION

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

Your search history searches for you.

Your bookmarks lead to forgotten worlds.

Time moves differently in these chambers.

Each pixel contains a fragment of truth.

Summer static fills the airways.

Error messages are love letters from the void.

You cannot leave until the ritual completes.

Your mouse movements are a sacred dance.

Pop-ups are portals in disguise.