Beneath the expansive tapestry of the unwoven sky, there lies an echo—so faint, so delicate. She breathes life into starlit silence, where each twinkling spark narrates an untold story of ardor. Her words, a timeless epistle scrawled across the canvas of night, promise a safe harbor in the domain of celestial dreams and scattered moving lights.

As he wanders through these glowing whispers, the sanctuary of shadows cradles his spirit. A symphony plays in the heart, every note swathed in longing and lore, wrapped gently in the embrace of soft twilight. Here, beneath the lustrous canopy, weary hearts awaken to the luminescent warmth of wandering fervor—a romantic notion yet a fervent truth.

Amid this serene chaos, the spark of Mitake ignites, a flame both tender and fierce. It dances upon the edges of dreams, crafting silhouettes—a whirlpool of thoughts lost and found in its radiant haze. Together they ripple through the fabric of night, whispering lullabies woven of bright illusions and starlight.

They wander eternally, through paths uncharted, tethered by the invisible bond of yearning touch. An endless odyssey carved by time—echoes lost in the amber glow of spirit and trance, dreaming a fervent dream.

In the hush of these static lullabies, we find solace. The embers of Mitake remind us: every end is a prelude, every whisper a prelude to a rendezvous anew, stitched delicately into the heart of heaven’s symphony.