Symbiotic Whispers
In the mornings, the quiet suns aligned themselves in arcs. Tales woven through sylvan whispers told of emptiness echoing possibilities, where the untouched forests met alive voids.
She discovered the lore beside the murmuring tendrils of mist. An ancient melody arose, reflecting the cycle, where each note breathed symbiotic truths—the kind only said by a root to the sky.
The tentacled arise, inhabitants unrecognized birthed above the land's horizon. She, the keeper, only saw them in incandescent echoes beneath harmonious carpets of nightshade.
Curiosity's symbiosis bent more than declarations—became binding myths shaping star clutches conjured through void’s tales—each articulating reality stitched continuations by virtue of not known.
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