Beneath the whispering constellations, the shadows weave tales untold. An echoing silence clings to dreams like dew on midnight grass.
The old library's windows yawn, opening onto streets that do not exist. A clock ticks backwards in the tangle of thought and sleep.
Do the stars know secrets, or are they merely old stories hung across the void?
As darkness stretches its limbs, pathways unfurl beneath the surface of reality, leading to:
In the library, the dust dances, and old tomes breathe wisdom in forgotten tongues.