The Solarium.

The relentless wind, an ethereal sculptor, chiselled my face with tiny grains of dust and salt. It had been days since I first heard it, a faint hum that danced on the edge of perception, like a lullaby sung by distant memories. This siren song vibrated in my bones, resonating with some primal, ancient part of me, urging me deeper into this forgotten, desolate wilderness. And then, as if conjured by my longing, I saw it.

In the distance, it loomed like a skeletal monument, a testament to the grand folly of humanity. Its steel and concrete bones pierced the bruised and fading twilight of the afternoon, casting long, gnarled shadows across the cracked earth. As I cautiously approached, the hum intensified, a physical pressure that pounded against my eardrums. The ground beneath my feet began to tremble, a rhythmic pulse that echoed the beat of my own heart.. 

 What was this place? Who built it? And why did it call to me so?