Chasing Echoes in the Cosmic Plane

The whispers of Yesteryears rise from the celestial ocean. Rhythms long out of touch still reverberate. Marny skimmed, eyes probing through the ever-drifting hymns of the cosmos.

"In the quiet depth of the void, an echo waits..." his thoughts lingered. Carved upon fleeting nebulae and found in fragments on ancient petrified seams.

There's magic woven into scholary infinity, yet real magicians were only dust chasers in silvered ships.