The whisper reaches beyond the stillness of the fractured moonlight. Again and again, whispers dance in spirals, caught between time.
Behind the curtain of reality lies a garden of broken mirrors, reflecting eternity into twisted realms. Here, the tales repeat and sleep anew.
Echo 1: The Labyrinth of All Whens
Every echo a story, every story an echo. They blur, they bind, they echo. Silent yet resounding.
Footsteps imprint memories where none remain, the path is circular, an eternal return, yet forward it pushes.
The stars blink their tales in forgotten constellations, choruses long vanished from the symphony of creation.
You listen once more, a voice yours and not yours, a tale told that once was dreamt in another's mind.