Mirror of Ethereal Echoes

In the gloaming of the serene abyss, where whispers of light wane into tender melodies, the mirror exists—a pane of crystalline secrets.

It reflects not what is, nor what may become, but an infinite loop; a melody of visions past and shadows yet to dance.

Oh, the mirror, with its lying tongue—sings songs of sorrow and joy intertwined. A record, looping, forever repeating, forever forgetting.

When gazed upon, one sees not themselves, but the selves they wished to forget, the selves they wished to remember, adrift in the starry void.