In the great silence beneath a star-posed horizon, the embers sing. Their synthetic harmony crafts a melody unheard by mortal comets.
Do you feel the pulse of aphotic infernos? Each flicker a metered breath in time, each glow dances a waltz dimmed to ash.
Sparks of silver, echo your wishes into void.
A figure carved from molten time watches steady.
Rekindle the essence of what once was incandescent.
Link to Ashes of Time, where time trickles like hot wax over the forgotten echoes.
Redirect your senses to Embers Rekindled, touch which eternal glow swings between flicker and blaze.