The footprints led nowhere... yet the whispers said otherwise.
The mist rolled like a wave, soft and relentless, veiling the ground in a shroud of uncertainty. Amongst its coils, Aveline took her first steps into the dreamscape, her solitude shielded by the chorus of nocturnal lullabies. Beneath her, the ground remained nonchalant, marking her path with ephemeral precision.
She often wondered at the whispers. They cycled around her, soothing and persistent, inviting her to follow their meandering trails. Ever since her arrival in this echoing chasm, the footprints—and their absence of intent—infused an indescribable gravity to her wanderings.
The dreams were not hers alone. They belonged to the earth beneath her soles, resonating with stories yet to be unearthed. Aveline paused, listening for the familiar sigh of the wind—an omen she had come to recognize. There it was, leaning into her heart, a quiet insistence that sent shivers along her spine.
With tentative steps, she veered off her original course, initiating a ballet with the enigmatic silhouettes that danced against her vision. A step here, a turn there, until the mists thinned and a spectral figure emerged. Draped in moonlit silver, it bore no countenance, no form to render readily apparent.
"Are you here to guide, or to guard?" Aveline whispered, her voice featherweight against the vast tapestry of night.
The figure swayed and then lifted a hand, an abstract gesture catching the bioluminescent glow of her own heartbeat throttled by potent expectation.
And in that sublime instance, Aveline understood. The pathways bore witness to silent dreams, deferred and reverberating against the backdrop of stars woven into a glittering abyss.