The hum of drones... machines flickering in the dawn of digital twilight, sending echoes through the graffiti-strewn remnants of ancient streets. We had thought we'd soar on these wings of code and silicon, an orgy of progress written in lines of cold, unforgiving light.
"Did you hear the news?" she asked, stirring a cup filled with forgotten aromas, beneath the flickering streetlamp that once bathed our conversations in a neon glow. "They're calling it Crescent Silence."
Was it ever meant to be this way? Stories whispered behind data veils, melancholy algorithms churning in the backdrop of a forgotten tomorrow. Her voice, once resonant with dreams now echoes in tones forgotten by the hollowed future.
"The city sleeps," I murmured, though no city ever truly sleeps without a heartbeat beneath the surface, without old bones creaking into dawn with eyes closed to the impending reality.
Whispered Legends | Relics of Tomorrow | Return to the Gateway