In the dimly lit corridors of the unseen future, Libra, you find your scales tipped precariously, carrying the weight of a hidden terror. Something looms in the shadows, unwelcome yet inevitable, and to surrender to your fears would merely empower it. Silence is punctuated by an unexplained, scratching noise from behind the walls of reality itself. Avoid the seemingly benign smiles of strangers, for their eyes conceal secrets that even they are ignorant of. Every crack in the pavement, every flickering streetlight, is an omen awaiting interpretation. At every turn, the mundane drips with foreboding.

Beneath the palpitations of your everyday existence, the cosmic scales are slowly swinging — judgement is coming — but this beast with indifferent eyes cannot be reasoned with. Fear not! For even in this epoch of dread, there is a way to soothe the savage monster. In acts of kindness, you shall find your sanctuary. Elude the gnawing emptiness by selfless deeds, and listen, but do not try to understand, those unsettling whispers in your ears. Avoid gatherings for they become the labyrinth where the Minotaur of confusion feasts. Let your intuition guide you through the darkness, and remember, dear Libra, even in aspiring to maintain your delicate balance, some scales are destined to tip.