In the silence of the midnight void, constellations are born and die under the watchful gaze of time itself. Scrawled in the ink of infinity, their positions tell stories—not of gods and heroes, but of forgotten paths and whispered dreams.
Laced with silver, the stars weave a tapestry of what could be. Constellations shift, moving across the canvas like shadows of memories flickering just beyond reach.
Scattered among them is a tale. A question, perhaps: Could the Stardust Dreamers foretell their own demise, etched in the light of a dying sun?
Names fade—Virquella, Eldarice, Seraphel—each a constellation in its own right, luminous yet ephemeral. They etch themselves across the cosmos, only to be erased by the whispers of a distant, cosmic wind.
Follow the trails: Chronicles of Light, Pathways of Silence.