She traced the lines of the ancient carvings, feeling the grooves under her fingertips. Each mark a whisper from another time, texts unfinished as the sky was infinite and
In this moment, under the mid-moon glow, the words she could almost hear were not hers.
The sun set behind the mountains, casting shadows that danced upon the rock, and she pondered the stories left untold, the love that rippled through ages like the
The inscription read like a heartbeat—steady, longing, and intoxicatingly vague, reminding her of a
A flicker of warmth spread through her. Unknown and yet utterly familiar, the message was clear, yet obscured by its own
Behind her eyes, a vision of clay and flame, spinning tales into the woven tapestry of starry
Echoes of Yesterday