In the stillness of the lunar eclipse's grasp, where shadows weave tales of forgotten realms, a single drop breaks the surface.
It falls from the void above, into the darkened surface, creating concentric rings that echo through the cosmic void.
Each ring a fragment of a galaxy, distant yet hauntingly close.
Eyes that stare into the puddle see not their own, but the reflection of a star-studded sea, veiled in the mist of ancient dreams.
A scribe once etched these reflections as prayers, but now they are merely whispers in a void.
There lies a path to the crescent's embrace or perhaps a journey to the hidden galaxies.
Listen, for the echoes might just be the sound of silent stars weeping for an unrecalled eternity…