In the quiet town of Nebula's Edge, where shadows flicker with untold tales, a secret assembly meets at dusk. They are known as The Keepers of the Ether—a council composed of whispers and echoes, guardians of the stories that the world forgot.
The night the assembly convenes is painted with the hues of forgotten silences and the noise of ancient voices. Mira, the youngest Keeper, stands at the center circle, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of spectral hues. She speaks, her voice a crackle of stardust.
“Tonight,” she begins, “we draw from the well of time, from the fragments left uncarved. Netheling's song echoes here, beyond the folds of darkness. Are you ready to listen?”
The air thickens as the elders nod, their presence a whisper woven into the fabric of the cosmos. Tales like ribbons unfold, each thread a memory trapped in ether, yearning to be unfloored.
A voice, trembling like leaves in an unseen wind, recounts the tale of the *Skybreaker*. Beneath a crescent moon, it speaks of shadows that danced on rooftops, giants fashioned from twilight fumes. Their march was a symphony—a cacophony of haloes and hidden truths that echoed through corridors of time.
Mira watches, enraptured, as spectral scenes unfurl before her. Each Keeper breathes a story into existence, tethered to the noise of celestial sonatas, lost in the stellar between.