The Echo Loop

The signal shimmered, rewound through the cosmic coils where silence finds meaning in rhythm once vanished. It spoke not of a star but another place—of reflections upon sand that drank in coldness.

Alone, Yara traced forgotten constellations with fingertips that had brushed the dust of nine worlds. Echoes of faint signals drifted like fireflies above a silver garden, realms visited only in memory.

And the story looped: its beginning was no end, twisting through paths where echoes awoke recollections of smiles both fierce and tender, tales unspoken yet far from unheard.

"When the song fades," the voice whispered within a forgotten tongue, "return to where absence breathes and embrace what has always been neither the shadow nor its light."

The stars circled. Each flare—an ember renewing the journey, whispering stories, weaving what has been unwound. Yet the loop closes not but spirals, consuming time with gentle flares.