"In the year of the silver sun, when shadows painted figures danced along the cobbled ways of Ye Olde Trillium, a distant bell tolled, invisible to those who stood upon the precipice of the now. In that moment, the thread was pulled tight, stitching the present to a whisper forgotten. Amidst tinkling laughter echoing in the marketplace, a ciphered song lay in wait - a melody unheard since the days the stars spun in reverse."
"Blurred visions of a cry blared from the eternal machine known only as the Chronocycle, wrapping its diaphanous chains around a seer in a saffron shroud. The relic throbbed, sending luminescence cascading onto the cobweb-like strings of destiny. She moved with purpose, carving runes of radiant ink onto parchment that cried out for the era of darkness," whispered the wind."
"Beneath the emerald glow of an argent tree, a lone figure traversed the tapestry, the tiny universe of thread fusion beneath her fingertips sparking novae. Pathways converged, diverged, whirled backward before her solitary dance, a loop immune to the linear mind of man. When she sang, the Past wept gratefully, the Future trembling in silent accord."