The digital troubadour sang songs of old, of fragments of futures, of pasts rewritten: "Beep boop, the herald calls, the screen flickers, and I wander through the portal." Childhood memories wrapped in the glow of the silicon stars. Time wandered off one day and never returned. It traveled along the stream of electric echoes. Now pennies fall through black holes, and phones play symphonies for the forgotten gods. In the tapestry of the ether, a knight queries the pixelated skies, "Where is the path that leads home?" Music, a binary enchantment, the code weaves itself into reality.
Visions of steam and circuits blend into a horizon of strange hues as the soothsayer types upon a glowing terminal: "When the clock strikes 13, the realms will converge." A web woven not of silk but of dreams and electric whispers. The terrain of the mind's eye is where the dragons roam free, unbound by time. Somewhere, beyond the realm of understandings, lies the map to hidden paths. Open your eyes and you may just see the way.