There’s a story that drifts through late-night conversations, spoken in hushed tones by those who have heard of the Endless Streets. It’s said that somewhere, perhaps in a forgotten part of town or at the end of a deserted road, there’s a place where the laws of reality blur and bend. Step onto the asphalt, and you find yourself on a road that stretches endlessly into the night. The only light comes from the street lamps that line the pavement, casting a faint, lonely glow. Beyond the reach of those lights is nothing but darkness-thick, impenetrable, and filled with an unsettling silence. No buildings, no signs of life, just roads upon roads, branching off into more roads, like an endless web. The sky above is shrouded in a black fog, swirling and heavy, but it never touches the streets below, as if held back by some unseen force. They say if you wander these streets, you must be cautious, for the darkness is more than just an absence of light. It’s alive with shadows, and those who have strayed too far from the safety of the streetlights have never returned to tell their tale. No one knows what lurks in the inky blackness beyond the lights-whether it’s creatures born of the darkness or something even more sinister. But the legend is clear: once you enter the Endless Streets, you may never find your way out, and the shadows may not let you leave.
