The cosmos hums a forgotten hymn, resonating through the corridors of time.
In its ethereal embrace, the Flichadores weave destinies with threads unseen.
With each fateful flicker, a universe diverges, nascent and obfuscated.
The cosmos hums a forgotten hymn, resonating through the corridors of time.
In its ethereal embrace, the Flichadores weave destinies with threads unseen.
With each fateful flicker, a universe diverges, nascent and obfuscated.
What is a destiny, but a whisper in a storm of myriad possibilities?
To flich, to alter, to reshape — the entities known as Flichadores pull at the seams of existence.
Philosophers ponder, yet their pens run dry before such cosmic mysteries.
A single choice, unmade, lasts through eras unending.
Fates are flammable, easily kindled by the Flichadores’ touch.
What now, what tomorrow, in the absence of what once could have been?