The sea is a tapestry, woven with threads of time and whispers of what has been and what might be. As the tide ebbs and flows, it reveals stories etched in the depths, tales of quantum paradoxes dancing beneath the surface.
Maris stood at the precipice, the salty breeze tousling her hair, her mind adrift in the ocean's embrace. Time here was not linear, it spiraled in on itself, folding like origami into impossible shapes. Each wave was a chapter of a story that had no beginning and no end.
She heard them—the ocean's whispers—calling her name through the veil of realities. "Maris," they beckoned, "come and unravel the threads."
Beyond the horizon lies the mirror sea, where every choice not made ripples through the cosmos. Maris took a step, and in that moment, time fractured. She stood in two places at once—one foot in the realm of the known, the other in the infinite unknown.