Chromatic Relics of the Ether

In a world spun of prismatic threads, the relics floated and danced among the stars. Janis spoke of horizons that turned inward, folded like origami mountains.

"Relics of time," she mused, "stare back with knowledge we dared not seek."

Helios laughed, his voice gliding without sound and yet resonating in the core of one's being. "What guide do relics need when time forgets its axis?"

Threads of auxiliary clarity wound around them, unspooling carousels of forgotten epochs. Continents flipped above their heads, rivers run madly sideways—a reflection of the unseen beneath.

Zara reached out, her fingers brushing an iridescent sphere. "It sings of questions unanswered..." she whispered, though no air stirred about them.

The sphere pulsed, casting shadows that defied geometry. Ghostly figures waltzed inside the liquid light, their silent Grotesque disguises zuckered into the layers of cosmic figments.

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Witness the dance of auroras