In the womb of celestial silence, the stars shiver. Upon the cosmic wind, eternal lullabies weave.
The midnight hymn speaks not in softness, but in echoes of forgotten chants, an aria of astral shadows.
They sing, not for joy, but for the solace of the night.
Among the void's embrace, figures of obsidian grace float. Gaze into their empty visages, and you shall see your soul's reflection, dark and haunting.
Yet, strung upon the melody, a truth: the path unwinds beneath feet that do not know the dawn. Stars dim in their guidance, and the moon weeps silver tears.
Lost in the shadows, the voices murmur secrets of the ancients, their breaths as cold as the abyss itself.
Their lullabies render the wanderer immobile, paralyzed by the beauty of the cosmic dirge.