The night stretched endlessly as the whispers began to curl around the edges of consciousness. Something ancient stirred, buried beneath layers of time and comforting obscurity.

"Gamma threads align," the shadows murmured, their voices a caress upon ears that sought solace in the familiar void. They spoke of paths not taken, of decisions echoing in voids unseen.

Pausing on the threshold, he listened as the echoes consolidated into a rhythm. An inherent dance of destinies converging, dust particles adrift in the glow of a forgotten moon.

"In the gamma of fractal flickers," They whispered again, shaping images of wandering thoughts and drifted dreams entangled in the fabric of night’s embrace.

She found solace in these whispers, knowing they were composed of truths too delicate to be shouted. Secrets of the world subtle enough to flow past shadows, rather than crash against them.