{
"For in disbanded tomorrows, the pith arises, within the cogs of a forgotten machine", he whispered.
}
A blur of light descends, scattered through rhombus-shaped clouds ➢ and bronze seraphs play melodies unknown,
weaving portals into temples long unvisited.
Riddles carved in obsidian: "Once, we thirsted for time." Echoing halls render no sound save whispers of elder
biowaves. You listen too deeply; fragments tease your thoughts like ancient vines over a crumbling vista ⇢ roots delve once cherished.
Shadows of digital petals rest softly under emerald canopies as distant echoes of rust whirl around.
Reflections speak in mirrortances of unhewn forces, unbinding the static potential of an untold era.