In a world not far from this one, encased within the whispering arms of a forgotten galaxy, the celestial bodies spoke through their cycles. A small village under the Lunatic Moon, suspended in an eternal twilight, spun stories of the heavens.
"The stars," said Elder Mirage, "are mirrors of dreams, caught between reality and the lies we tell ourselves." His voice was gravelly, a sound like rusted gears grinding together, as he recounted the tales of old to the children gathered around the embers.
Beneath the night sky, where shadows danced to the rhythm of unseen winds, the villagers found solace in the stars' indifferent gaze. They believed the moon bore witness to their secrets; the sun, their truths. And in each cycle, a new chapter unfolded, whispered by the cosmos.
Continue the journey: where does this cycle lead? Echoes or Origins.