In the half-light, where time weaves a thin veil between reality and the untold realms, a haunting lullaby ebbs quietly. Details remain obscured; investigators report transitory visions, resembling dreams, observed by the few awake at twilight.
The phenomenon aligns sporadically with the inevitable approach of the dawn. Witnesses describe chilling choruses of muted innocence—a remembrance of ethereal ballads hummed by shadows. The peaceful surface of reality seems disrupted, yet the dreamers find solace, cradled by these unearthly songs.
Time stands neutral, graphing the silhouettes that seem to dance upon the moist sands of recollection. True narratives lie dormant, only to skew the perceptions of the mundane as they blend into the waking hours.