In subterranean whispers, the mycorrhiza pierce the veil of silence. Quantum threads exhale, intertwining, expansive an infinitesimal breath. The Pursuant's Request
Among the roots of giants, I have seen them deliberate. Electro-chemical reverberations, a shared consciousness of furtherance.
To imagine their language is to anoint oneself in mystery. Each spore a luminary, hitching ethereal currents of thought, weaving invitations on the gossamer strands of existence. Brotherhood Initiation
What do the spores pontificate as they cradle the roots of ancient wisdom? Immutable libraries, archived in the synchronicity of decaying empires.