No one knows who built the Silent Archives.

Some say it was never built at all — that it grew in a hidden place where wild roses and nameless beasts gather, drawn by something older than memory.

The air here hums with a strange, weightless pressure, as if unseen things are always passing by.

Among the vines and crumbling stone, roses bloom where no light touches, and the animals that move through the shadows do not blink or speak — yet somehow, they listen.

It is believed that every rose in the Archives is a secret given form. Some say if you lean close enough, the petals will whisper forgotten truths, but beware — not all truths wish to be found.

The beasts are watchers. Some are said to follow visitors for days, their eyes filled with questions you cannot answer.

There are doors that appear where none stood before.

Corridors that lead nowhere — or worse, somewhere you cannot return from.

Certain rooms seem to shift when you turn your back.

And deep in the oldest wing, a grove of blackened roses guards something that no one has yet dared to write about.

Visitors are welcome... but not all who enter the Silent Archives leave untouched.