Like wisps in dawn's fog, intentions surface and merge, drawing whispers from nebulous reach.
Between the sigils of time and the echoing void, lies your whispered choice:
In the arcane legion of forgotten echoes, a choice reposes—delicate as the butterfly's sigh upon a winter's moon.
Once inscribed, the choice melds with the tapestry of the cosmos, resonating eternally. What path shall you tread?