When the whispers of forgotten realms call... the silence in our souls unravels. An echo not bound by time, nor tethered to the mundane fabric of reality. A gravity well gently swells within, pulling unseen forces that shape our emotional tapestry.
Here, in the caverns of self, the pebble drops, displacing the clear mirror of consciousness. In the soundless depth, ripples become the truth. Silent musings of the astral sea guide the lost wanderer to shores untouched by the years of waking.
Beneath the ancient oak, roots intertwine with memories, forming a web where past and present dance in hazy synchrony. The cracked earth remembers what we forget, holding in its bosom the soft sighs of untold eternities.
As dawn breaks over the ethereal horizon, frost-kissed whispers adorn the skies, waiting for the brave to collect their dreams and weave them into the solemn music of the spheres.