In the silence before the dawn of all things, when the vastness of the cosmos cradled an untouched canvas, there were whispers.
These whispers became stars, became nebulae, each an echo turned symphonic in the void. The universe spun like the Timekeeper’s dial, winding stories light-years long, beneath veils of darkness and whispers of spectral light. Each color a note; each orbit a measure of silent song.