In the forgotten whisper of eternity, the labyrinth sprawled beneath silent stars. A tapestry woven from the breath of cosmic dust and celestial echoes. The walls, once towering and proud, were slowly crumbling, much like the fabric of memories that bind us. Inside, paths forked endlessly, their destinations known only to the ancients who had crafted this maze. Here, amidst the scattered remnants of time, one could hear the hum of stories untold, lost among the interstellar silence.
As footsteps crescendoed through the hollow corridors, the familiar scent of forgotten dreams arose. It clung to the air like a wisp of smoke, intangible yet present. Travelers often spoke of these dreams, mirages seen at the corners of half-closed minds, reflections of the soul yearning for completion. Yet, here, in this cosmic labyrinth, the only company was the soft creak of celestial doorways opening and closing, a rhythmic dance of silence and sound.
The dust settled on words yet to be spoken, each grain a universe unto itself, each pause a galaxy unexplored. In the depth of this maze, the past collided with futures unknown, crafting paths that shimmered under the weight of stars. The labyrinth was not merely a place but a being, alive and breathing, unraveling and reweaving the tapestry of existence.