In the unknown folds of cosmos, where silence is not absence but a waiting peace, a lattice of stars whispered. Each glimmer a note, each constellation a symphony, stretching the imagination beyond possible realms.
Margaret stood on the hill, where the grass bent gently under the weight of night. The stars above danced and hummed—a collective note suspended in an atmosphere dense with echoes. She closed her eyes, letting the murmurs shape her thoughts.
"What do you want to say?" she whispered, her voice barely breaking the invisible web that tethered her to the sky.
The echoes bent time and space, sculpting the night into a tapestry vibrant with stories. She saw, in the folds of darkness, a land untouched by common fingers—a place where the earth curled in peculiar shapes, and shadows whispered truths to the curious.
It was a land known as Eidolon, resting on the edge of a dream yet to be realized. The murmurs had painted its visage so clearly that she felt the pull, soft yet insistent, urging her to step through the veil of reality into the space where stars sang the earth’s hidden histories.