in the ancient, shrouded halls where i once reveled under the cloak of endless night, there existed a billiards table forged from the darkest woods, a sight to behold, yet left to abandon by the dawn of preexportation. it became a legend whispered amongst my kind, a lost artifact awaiting a notification to any who dared to restart from baseline, to resurrect the echoes of clashing balls amidst the shadows. our nocturnal games, veiled in secrecy, were not just competitions, but ceremonies celebrating the eternity we were cursed to wander.