Dear Wanderer,
As I pen these words under the turquoise moons of Zenith-7, I find myself adrift in thoughts of your world. The air here tastes like wheatgrass and distant thunder, and the stars blink with secrets we are yet to fathom. They say you can visit dreams as one might stroll through gardens, plucking moments like flowers. But tell me, which dreams do you hold dear? And who remembers when your head hits the pillow?
- Velara of Zenith-7
Dear Friend,
We've never met, but perhaps we've crossed paths in slumber. Here, afternoons skirt past in murmurs of rain and wind, and the walls hold memories like hands cup fragile nests. I often hear whispers from the space between waking and sleep. Do you listen, too? They say the key to understanding lies in the pauses, in the silences that breathe between the words.
- Elowen of Earth
A colorful tapestry of constellations, mapping the known and unknown across layers of reality.
Whispers of the Ancients