And so, the letters leapt, frenzied and untamed, over the brink of cognition—syncopated notes within twilight's serenade, token tomes lost to the ages.
- Marked not by night, the shimmering paths ignited with echoes of delirium, tales began that could not end, though they had not yet begun to wake in wistful shroud.
Through crumbled shadows lie bright portals, tides cresting on the cusp of dream and doubt, where reality bends at the tender threads of sheer imagination—never more vivid, somehow universal in its grip.
So go on, reader of eternal chapters! Traverse the chaotic symphony this moment becomes, unravel the sentences unbound by quaking slips of the written world.