Amid the fabric of our reality exists a realm, gossamer in its composition, where echoes of childlike curiosity dance upon the precipice of lamentable truths. The fables contained herein are not mere frivolities but narrative constructs that forge pathways through both wonder and woe.
In the twilight of aeons past, there existed a lantern whose flame consumed not kerosene nor wick, but the unspoken dreams of the slumbering child. Perchance, its glow offered visions, both exquisite and terrible, of what could be or might never be again. Scholars of yore deliberated upon its significance, attributing both miracles and mischief to its flickering light.
Upon the hushed banks of the River Verdant sang Saraphine, whose melodies could mend the heart or unravel even the most staunch of spirits. Her refrain, a blend of joy and despair, narrated the ceaseless cycles of hope and requiem.