Mazes Without Ends

In the quiet hours, beneath the satin veil of a spreading night, the shadows found themselves untethered. Lost in the folds of whispered promises, they danced upon the braids of time, silent oaths tangled in their fleeting forms.

Every thread whispered secrets only the dead could understand, while the living wove through them, bustling about their mundane businesses. The city's breath was a murmur on the wind—diffuse and distant.

Somewhere in that breathing void, in lines and spaces unseen by untouched hands, lay origins. Conversations, intended for two and overheard by entities nameless, tracked paths through spaces real and imagined. It was a night for mazes without ends.