Time slithered through the cracks of eternity, weaving patterns upon the skin of the universe. In this forgotten space, whispers of an anticipated reckoning drifted like dust upon sunbeams, stories unclaimed by human lips but etched into the fabric of stars. Nebula dreams intertwined with the remnants of half-remembered epochs.
Once, they said, when the last of the ancient clocks fell still, a chorus of galaxies would sing a dirge for the lost futures. Yet here, the air tasted of iron and hope, a paradox unfolding in the quiet corners of reality. Shadows danced without source or end; the silhouettes of what could have been.
Navigate these forgotten paths: the echo of celestial hearts, whispers of unvoiced truths, and the unseen hands that guide the drift.