Fears, avaunt! Not for naught does Narcissus-X breathe the clear, cold, air of night throughout the cobwebbed halls of fevered imaginings, driving out gibbering goblins of gloom and glowing-eyed ghosts of forgotten dreams.
Dust departed, Lemuria done, wind subsides, the halls are empty. No sound, no soft tread of shoeless foot on stone, no muffled creak of door or window.
Narcissus-X traverses the halls. Steps echo in seeming answer.
Has more than fear fled? Narcissus-X will search the night.