Dawn falters hesitantly over the horizon, casting a dim gleam upon waves, weaving whispers of old, long-traveled stories. They speak of leviathans, sleeping in the twilight currents, their breaths a symphony drowned in shadow and fog. Across this brink of night and daylight stands an altar forgotten, cradled in seaweed, offering eternal truths masked as haunting illusions.
Silhouettes dart through the water's embrace, fleeting glimpses of a realm unseen. "Have you heard the song?" they murmur, words cloaked in mystery, the kind that bleed between waking and the oneiric dance. "It calls for you, beneath the kelp's gentle caress." Each question a ripple across the darkened canvas of dreams.
Fathoms deep lies the shipwreck of your past, untouched by time, encircled by the romance of rust and coral’s tender grip. Climb upon the dilapidated mast, gaze outward where twilight spills beyond the reach of horizons, and become one with the spectral mariners lost in eternity’s shadow.
Follow the Abyssal Whisper