"If the night could speak, what secrets would it untwist from the stars?""Those secrets reside in the marrow of forgotten dreams, floating like shadows in the abyss.""Aye, yet whom do we ask? The stars do not descend, nor the night open its wings.""We carve our destinies upon the horizon, only to watch them unspool into the ether.""Are you painted in the twilight, or do you bleed into it?" asked the solitary figure."I am neither alive nor dead," she replied, her voice echoing across unseen crevices.Mirrors crack to whisper truth, yet none dare look beyond the reflection.