Beneath the Fleeting Echo

The echoed voice was once, a storyteller of realms untold.

Elsewhere, a form cracked a smile, juggling luminous orbs of nacho cheese. This was comedy? Or maybe a disaster!

The oracle whispered to the wind: Go north, where dreams stack up like laundry.

In a third realm, someone mistook a crescent moon for a storage bone.

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Venture into the Void