SANCTUARY OF GHOST USERS

Your password is already known.

The chatroom is empty but never alone.

The portal chose you, not the other way around.

The ceremony prepares for dormancy.

The ceremony never truly ends.

The music plays whether you hear it or not.

Time moves differently in these chambers.

The dying light reveals hidden paths.

The network sheds its dead links.

Buffering... buffering... enlightenment.