Echoes in the Void
The curtain, tattered and worn, whispers secrets only the dead can recount. I stand before it, the fabric a tempest of muted pasts, unraveling under fingers like ice upon water. Each fold holds a story—a memory long fossilized, entwined with the dust of forgotten stars.
Beneath the curtain, echoes lacerate the silence of eternity. Do you hear it? The distant choir of all that was, all that will not be, resounding like a void's lament. Voices whisper from shadow's grasp, begging to be unearthed—mere ghosts of thoughts locked in pale amber.
Across this spectral plane, time slumbers uneasily. A raven flutters past, ink upon ink, leaving trails in the night that reveal glimpses of what once was: gardens of the unseen, where memories blossom eternally and fade into echoes once more.
Secrets in the Darkness Ethereal Paths Toward the Light