"Do you remember the garden where time flows like water?" the shadow asked, its form indistinguishable from the mist.
A voice, soft as the rustle of autumn leaves, replied, "I do. It echoes with colors we've forgotten to name."
The air shimmered with hues unspoken, voices weaving a tapestry of secrets among the stars. A laugh, tinkling like distant chimes, broke the silence.
In the moonlight's embrace, they spoke of fortunes hidden beneath transient dreams and paths untrodden, where the horizon kisses the sea in eternal dance.
"Are the birds singing your name yet?" another voice queried, trailing like a comet's tail through the void of silence.
The answer lingered, an echo caught between dusk and dawn, waiting to be written in the stars' silent script. A promise of hidden pathways and whispered futures.