In the town of Azure Harbor, where the coast met the earth with a sigh, the days blurred together, marked only by the worn calendar ketched with letters half-formed.
The lighthouse, stubborn and ever-watchful, stood at the precipice, watching sailors come and go, but never offering up its glow until the storm found it worthy of its light.
In the hushed library of Mistral Pines, the pages whispered secrets in a language old and foreign. Stories long sheltered by dust, woke to find a kindred spirit in her.
Helena brushed fingertips over a crumbling binding, and in that touch she found the music of dreams untold, scores resting between notes, unsung and wistful.
The alleyways spoke in noise only measurable by those attuned to the whispers in the cracks of concrete and faded murals.
Through the shadows of the marketplace, beneath lanterns flickering in the twilight, intention met with unwritten destinies and paths forked.