The river sang once more as the sun dipped beneath transient reflections, a lullaby for uncarved stones. Memories carried by bubbling voices made ephemeral stories reverberate in the evening air.
Near the edge, where the whispers dared to weave among the reeds, a tale of forgotten sailors sprawled across currents, meshed into misty ether.
What word of mankind’s weary trespass rises past the gurgles into the open sky? The river spoke no names, only destiny loosened amidst drifting tides.
Shadows cast from nowhere, their identity lost in droplets caught evanescent light—a ballet of ghosts beneath the non-permanent bridge of realizing time.
Have you heard, traveler, of those who’ve walked myriad corridors only for the river to alter all footprints to stars before dawn?
Venture onward and let the river's echo guide you further: Echoes or perhaps Submergence Layers.