In the desolate room where silence became a habit, she heard whispers of thoughts that weren't hers. They fluttered, like moths drawn to the dim glow of consciousness, teasing the edge of clarity with their secretive dance.
"You must remember..." The voice lingered just outside the periphery, as real as the chill in the air, yet intangible.
Days drifted by in an ocean of echoes, each moment a ripple in an endless sea of solitude. The whispers wove around her, threads of a tapestry unseen, unraveling stories of worlds where time stood still.
"...find the pathway to yourselves, where voices melt like shadows in the dawn."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the room glowed with a soft, ethereal light. Her gaze wandered to the window, where a figure stood—a silhouette etched against the canvas of twilight.
"Do you see them too..." a thought echoed, and for a brief moment, the air shimmered with the weight of unspoken words, binding the unseen to the seen.
The figure turned, revealing a face carved from the same solitude that enveloped her. They shared a knowing smile, a silent agreement spoken in a language beyond the senses.