Amidst the unending void, a shore emerges. Not one of sand, but of obsidian pebbles that sing under the weight of time. Here, the sky is painted with eternal constellations, weaving ancient tales in their starry arabesques.
Footsteps echo on this alien shore, a rhythm known too well yet foreign to touch. What soul dares to tread upon these ancient stones? The remnants of a once-familiar horizon flicker softly in the eyes of the wanderer.
The night is an artist, painting shadows with strokes of darkness and hints of starlit whispers. And on this shore, the winds carry voices—fragments of forgotten hymns, echoing through the spectral foam.
What will you hear when your name is whispered by the stars? What constellations will weave your legacy upon the cosmic loom?