In the quiet void, where whispers meet the dreams of ancient tapestries, lies a song only the night can sing. The melody weaves through the shadows, dancing upon the edges of your eyelids, leaving behind an echo of forgotten realms.
Once, in the obsidian skies, a voice called — a siren's hymn etched into eternity. Yet, few decipher its tongue, for it speaks in riddles spun from silver and sorrow. Do you hear it? A echo, a whisper, lingering at the boundary of dreams.
As the night ascends her throne, stars flicker with tales unspoken, hiding truths and lies beneath their shrouded light. Step lightly among them, for the starlight conceals a phantom of deep velvet silence.