When the astral winds whisper through the gilded leaves, it may seem the world sings a silent verse in the void. An echo of a melody dulcet and haunting, a serenade of shades that sleep in twilight's embrace.
In reveries bound by the silver thread, the dreamwalker's shadow is cast upon ethereal sands, where each step resonates with a note tuned to the heart's deepest longing. These echoes carry tales from the nebulous realms, stories spun from the silken webs of slumbering souls.
An echo, after all, is a song sung in solitude, a remembrance of voices once intertwined. Follow the sound, where lunar beams weave through the fabric of night's vast tapestry, and there you shall find what was lost amidst waking's cruel clarity.
The echoes fade slowly, carried upon the gentle sighs of the night, leaving behind a fragrance of forgotten dreams and wistful songs that linger in the corridors of memory.